


As You Are (aka The Nudist Resort)

by Iocane



Series: Fuckin' Rich People [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Body Worship, Hank plays guitar, M/M, Shitty people doing shitty things, Smut, android body horror, basically once it goes dark it stays there till the very very end, but I'd rather overtag than undertag, connor has a seekrit, everyone's okay though!, frank discussion of ownership, inaccurate nudist behavior, inaccurate undercover behavior, most of the badness is near the end, off screen amputation, the violence isn't awful, there's a lot of implied violence also, tummy love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 19:05:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15669390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iocane/pseuds/Iocane
Summary: Finally at AsUR club, Hank and Connor do a bit of exploring.  Both the grounds, and each other.Then they get busted.  In more ways than one.=Direct sequel to The One With(out) The Nudist Resort!!=





	As You Are (aka The Nudist Resort)

**Author's Note:**

> This one does actually take place at the nudist resort! And they are naked for virtually the entire thing! Yay!
> 
> I considered doing multiple chapters but I hate posting unfinished so I'm just dumping the whole thing!

Hank let himself soak up Connor's heartbeat as he got his own disarrayed thoughts back under something resembling control. They needed a talk, a long, deep talk. And they didn't have time for it right now. In a few hours, they had to be at the resort, investigating at least five murders.

Ignoring the tingling in his legs, he savored Connor's arms around his head and shoulders, appreciating the android for giving him the mental space he needed. 

"Connor?" He finally said, lifting his head slowly, hating what he was about to say.

"Yes?" Connor straightened and that smile made Hank's heart clench.

"I can't feel my legs, baby, you gotta get up," he gave Connor's thighs a reluctant squeeze and his lap was empty seconds later, with Connor apologizing. His LED was gone but Hank could almost see it going yellow anyway and saw the concern ease as the scan no doubt revealed the full restoration of circulation. 

"You could have said something sooner," Connor pointed out, standing in front of Hank.

"Could've," he agreed, stretching his legs with a low groan. "Didn't want to." He began to roll his ankles, hissing just a little at the pins and needles. After he could feel his legs again, he leaned back in his chair and glanced up at Connor. "I'm sorry I was being a jerk. Like you said, this whole thing has me … pretty off balance." He ran a hand through his hair.

"There's nothing to apologize for that hasn't already been covered," Connor assured him. Then he stepped closer and slid his own hands through Hank's hair and oh my that felt nice.

He let his eyes half close and felt those strong, slender fingers gliding over his scalp. "You can do that any time for as long as you want," he said, sounding almost sleepy and he was rewarded with a chuckle.

"Actually, if you would be agreeable, I think it might aid in our roles as a wealthy couple if I trimmed your hair," Connor said and Hank scowled just a little, knowing what was coming. "And your beard."

"It's not that bad," he grumbled, then sighed. "But we're supposed to be a pair of rich fuckers so yeah. Wait, why is cutting hair something you can do?"

Connor actually flushed a little at the question. "I obtained the skill from Jericho about a month ago, in case it ever became advantageous to have it."

"That was … very thoughtful," Hank was touched that he'd been thinking ahead that far back. Since his feet and legs felt fully normal, he stood and stretched. "I'll go get my shaving kit, it's got a pair of tiny scissors."

"I'll make you something to eat."

Hank grunted the affirmative and went into the bathroom. He grabbed his shaving kit, making sure the tiny scissors he used when he bothered to trim his beard were there. After splashing some water on his face, he gave himself a critical look in the mirror. He didn't look *bad* per ce, but he didn't look like someone who someone as attractive as Connor would be with for any reason besides money. 

Nudist resort. Fucking hell. Suddenly feeling self conscious, and knowing he'd be getting naked plenty in the next few days, Hank snagged his bathrobe and shrugged it on before heading back into the kitchen, giving his sleeping dog a pet on the way through.

"I was thinking." He set the kit on the kitchen table, watching Connor's ass sway as he cooked eggs. With no apron. Just the idea made him wince. 

"Thinking what?" Connor asked when he didn't finish his thought.

"Uhm, first for my peace of mind can you put something on when you're done?" he asked, sitting down. "And second, if I'm supposed to look classy, maybe I should just forgo the beard?" It almost hurt to say it, but clean shaven was generally considered to be a more put-together look. It was one reason he'd grown his beard in the first place.

"No," Connor said simply, reaching up to get a plate out of the cabinet.

"No which?"

"No, I'm not shaving your beard and neither are you." With that, Connor set a plate of cheesy eggs, cooked to perfection, in front of him, along with a fork. "But I'll go put something on," he added, pressing a kiss to Hank's cheek before heading into the bedroom.

Connor had cooked for him before, quite a lot, actually. But it had never felt like this. Never quite so … domestic. It was a nice feeling. He was just starting on his eggs when Connor emerged wearing the loose fitting clothes he'd been given yesterday after their trip to Cyberlife. 

"Why can't I shave?"

"Because while speculative analysis shows an increase in appeal with your beard trimmed, the appeal is diminished if the beard is removed entirely."

"Increase in appeal? That some statistics you have on the looks of old men?"

"No, simply how I feel about you."

What was it about Connor that could throw him off balance, even just a little, and make it feel nice? "Oh. Okay, no shaving," he promised with a smile, cutting off the urge to protest that he didn't really look appealing either way.

"I appreciate the lack of argument."

"Don't get used to it, I'm just in a good mood because I had fantastic sex last night," he said around a mouthful of eggs.

Connor stopped what he was doing, probably washing dishes behind Hank. "I did as well," he said, sounding … touched? Pleased? It sounded good to Hank's ears, either way.

"That, uhm, that's something we should probably talk about before we leave," Hank said, finishing the eggs, handing the plate back to Connor, then shifting his chair to look at him. "I'm man enough to admit I don't think I'll be able to keep my hands entirely to myself, especially when we're in our room at night."

"That's gratifying to know, since I don't think I will be either."

"But that being said, I don't … There's things …" He rubbed his hands over his face and tried to assemble his thoughts. "I don't wanna fuck you for the first time in a hotel room, and we don't have time to do it properly before we leave."

"I presume you mean anally penetrative intercourse?"

"Yeah. Yes, that's what I mean, Connor. You've never done it, and I don't care how your body is built for it." He recalled some of the perks of the models at club eden all too well, "Your first time is worth being special," he mumbled the last bit, feeling like he was making too big a deal of it.

Connor was quiet as he set the last dish on the drying rack and turned off the water. He turned to face Hank, a small smile on his lips as Hank met his gaze. "I very much appreciate the concern, and the care you're taking. It might not make a difference physically, but that you're taking my emotions into consideration is touching, and one of the reasons I find you appealing."

Hank wondered if he was actually blushing or if it just felt that way. He still didn't entirely know how to respond when Connor said things like that. Finally, he cleared his throat and stood. "We should probably get ready to go. We need to swing by the station and pick up some clothes."

"Your clothes are not acceptable?"

"For most things they're fine, but the fanciest thing I've got in there is my dress uniform, and that would be a giveaway. No, there's clothes at the station we can pick from. They've got a whole room full of everything we'll need."

"I see," Connor looked down at his clothes. "Is there something else I can wear, at least until we get to the station? I would rather not put on my old uniform," he admitted.

"Yeah," Hank nodded, then pulled Connor close, an arm around his waist. "I know I'm not always good at expressing things, but I hope this goes a little ways," he said, then dipped his head to catch Connor's mouth in a light kiss.

It didn't stay light for long and Connor's arms were soon twined around his shoulders, one hand in his hair. "It says plenty," Connor purred when the kiss ended, licking his lips slowly.

Hank chuckled, thinking he could almost see the way his eyes went just a bit unfocused, no doubt tasting everything in Hank's mouth. "I'm glad," he purred. "I'll go find you some clothes, you wanna get ready to trim my mop?" He asked, resisting the urge to seal another kiss before he drew away.

In his room, Hank got down a box of some old clothes from the academy that might fit the android. And that would be suitable to wear to the station. He poked through the box, realizing most of it would probably fit Conor and making a note to give t it to him when they finished the case. 

Ultimately, he settled on a pair of soft black slacks instead of jeans, and a medium blue shirt with a white circular pattern. All of the shirts were some shade of blue - chosen back when sex appeal - and thus bringing out his eyes - was a main motivator of his wardrobe choices. Connor's sweet brown eyes wouldn't be effected the same, but it wouldn't make him any less attractive, either.

Connor had Hank's kit carefully laid out on the table, eyeing the scissors critically, then testing them on a dangling thread at the hem of his shirt. Hank couldn't help the fond smile or the roll of his eyes when Connor then popped the thread into his mouth and rolled it around.

"You know, you don't have to put *everything* in your mouth," he said as he approached, handing Connor the bundle of clothes.

Connor's face went just a bit darker but he smiled. "It's the most accurate way of improving my database of fully experienced sensations." He took the clothes and began to strip right there.

Any other time, he might say something, but right now Hank just enjoyed the sight. Connor really did have a great body, and Hank eyed the muscles of his thighs as he stepped out of the shorts and into the slacks. Then his chest, licking his lips when he drew the t-shirt up, exposing his flat tummy and chest. Hank almost reconsidered his choice of shirt when he realized it would cover Connor's arms. But that might be a good thing, wouldn't do to leer at him at the station. "How do they feel?" he asked, once Connor finished buttoning the shirt.

"Very nice. Much more enjoyable sensations than my uniform." He bent, dipping down to kiss Hank lightly. "Now it's time to make you look as nice as you think I look."

"Connor, by *any* standard-" Hank stopped when Connor stood behind him, giving a bit of his hair a sharp tug. "Anyone with eyes-" Another tug. "You're a lot-" Tug.

"I never believed you to be a slow learner," Connor said mildly but Hank could hear the amusement.

"Brat." But he didn't try to keep pointing out how better looking Connor was than him, either.

The kitchen was quiet for several minutes as Connor slowly began to comb through Hank's hair. The android was gentle enough but Hank regretted not at least having dragged a comb through it when he got up. He generally didn't bother with his hair until he dressed, getting all of the fussing over at once.

"I find it pleasing when you call me that," Connor's soft voice broke the silence.

"Call you what?" 

"Brat. I've checked my memory banks, and it's not a word I've heard you apply to anyone else. I know the word itself is generally regarded as an insult, particularly when applied to a younger person from an older one. But I don't think you mean it that way."

"I don't," Hank was relaxing under the attention to his hair. The last time he'd gotten it cut had been at a barber who just gave him a trim and otherwise barely touched his hair. This was a lot nicer. More intimate. 

The combing seemed to be over and Hank felt that distinctive tug-slow-release of hair being combed, heled between two fingers and carefully cut.

"Is the aforementioned anal penetration the only sex act you wish to refrain from during the case?"

"Christ, Connor," Hank chuckled, rubbing his hands over his face for a moment. "Basically … yeah. Not that I'm assuming we'll have time to do much, but since we'll be sleeping there, yeah I don't think I can refrain from fooling around if I've got you in my bed every night.

"I find that pleasing," Connor said cheerfully as he kept carefully cutting Hank's hair.

"Me too. I don't know how often I'll be able to get it up, but that's no reason to deny you," he said. When Connor stopped his latest snip, Hank turned his head, looking up over his shoulder at the android. "Especially not when it's so easy to send you into overload," he chuckled.

"It's easy for *you* to send me into overload. "And it's more because it's you than any other reason. I enjoy new sensations but I enjoy them a great deal more when you're integrated into the experience."

Hank felt touched for a moment, reaching back over his shoulder He snagged Connor's hand and drew it forward to kiss it lightly. "I like you too, Connor," he said, clearing his throat, his stomach flipping in a way he still wasn't used to.

The rest of the haircut passed largely in silence, with Hank letting his mind drift and just enjoy the quiet intimacy. The fingers through his hair changed, firmer and more consistent as Connor pulled his hair back into a ponytail and snapped a band around it.

"Oh," Connor said as he walked around to his front. "In the interests of altering our appearance for the case, might I suggest you wear your hair up?"

Hank wouldn't miss the interest - and resulting shyness - in Connor's face and demeanor. He glanced around but there was nothing to serve as a mirror. He'd check later. "Sure," he promised, willing to do just about anything if that face asked him to.

Connor's smile was one of the brightest he'd seen yet and Hank couldn't help but grin back. "Now to trim your beard." Connor bent, brushing his fingers through hank's beard, snipping a hair off here and there.

Hank kept quiet, not wanting to mess up and have Connor cut too much. He mostly kept his hands to himself, but after a while, having Connor leaning like that got to him. He waited until it was safe, then reached up and snagged Connor's chin in his hands. He smiled at the surprised little noise and drew Connor in for a kiss.

Connor licked his lips as he drew back, eyes slightly unfocused and Hank chuckled softly. After a moment, he returned to his task, trimming Hank's beard one or two snips at a time. Finally, he got out the clippers and had Hank tip his head back.

This was a part Hank never bothered with, on his own or professionally, but he trusted Connor and got himself comfortable. Soft hands gently held Hank's skin steady and neatly trimmed up the scraggly edges of his beard, giving him a much less unkempt appearance.

This time it was Connor who kissed him, turning the clippers off and leaning in to capture his mouth. Hank rested a hand on his neck and purred softly before he drew back. He would have to wash all the clipped hairs away or he'd be scratching all day long. "I'm gonna take a shower," Hank said with a wink, recalling how the last time he'd said that, not more than a few hours ago, had changed things a great deal for both of them. And in a way, not at all.

+++++

Connor watched Hank vanish into the bathroom, then swept up the kitchen before putting Hank's shaving kit back to rights. He took in his appearance, smoothing the shirt down his front. The material was soft, and he could tell it was old, it wouldn't quite fit Hank any longer, and the material had the softness that came with gentle wear.

After some consideration, he rolled up his sleeves until they were just above the elbow, wanting to feel the swirl of air on his skin. Since there was no need to pack clothing, he doesn't worry about that, and the house has been kept perpetually tidy since he took up residence. He suspected once Hank is done, and the subject of Sumo has been addressed, they'd be heading to the precinct.

His shoes and socks were acceptable, though the socks aren't particularly comfortable, nor are they uncomfortable. Glancing at the bathroom, he pondered a moment, then went into Hank's room, opening his dresser and soon finding his socks. Unsurprisingly, his taste in socks resembles that of his shirts. There were a few plain white and plain black pairs but most had a pattern of some kind. 

Connor knew he risked seeming like a pervert as he carefully slid his fingertips over and between each pair, tongue held between his lips as he searched for the very softest pair. He found them, a pair of grey socks with a diamond and lines design he quickly identifies as argyle. Sitting on the bed, he pulled his pants up to his knees, then tugged the socks on, actually sighing at how soft the material is against his still new skin.

Once his socks were on, he donned his shoes just as the shower turns off. He ducks out in to the kitchen and peeks down the hallway, hoping Hank decided to forgo the robe on his way to the bathroom. 

He had, but he also had a towel wrapped around his waist and another toweling his hair, effectively blocking everything from view. Except the soft bulge of his belly which Connor loved. Partly because it was unique to him. Other humans had guts, he knew. But no other human was Connor's, and Connor would never have a belly like that. Or long hair. Or the beard, all of which made them even more appealing.

He knew some other androids had paired off with similar models, and sometimes even the exact same model as themselves. The blue haired Traci and her companion came to mind, but others since as well. But Connor revelled in the differences. He liked the dozens, maybe hundreds of different textures on a human's skin.

Specifically on *his* human's skin. Connor puts that possessive thought aside for the moment and focused on getting the house ready for being mostly empty for a few days. He'd used the last of the eggs and milk, the butter and the cheese *should* be fine, leaving only a lone tomato. Snagging it, he leaned against the counter.

He gave it a sniff, having smelled it before but he let himself savor it. A lick made his sensors explode briefly. Chemicals. Water. Dirt. The tomato itself. A taste was even more so, biting into it like a he'd seen Hank do with an apple. It was pleasant. A kind of savory-sweetness that tasted good. He finished the tomato, including the woody bit, opening his eyes to see Hank watching him.

His color rose in his cheek as Hank approached, saying nothing. A calloused thumb caught a little dribble of tomato juice and slid up Connor's skin, pressing into his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut as he focused on the taste this time as he sucked the thumb gently into his mouth and tasted it. ChemicalsWaterDirtTomatoHANKsoapshampooHANK. He could feel Hanks' hand slide to the back of his neck and let out a shuddering breath through his nose, not wanting to relinquish the thumb in his mouth. He was dimly aware that his soft moans were getting just a bit staticy and he forced himself back to reality.

Hank slid his thumb free as Connor's eyes began to open, trailing a quickly drying line of moisture over his jaw. "Never gonna get tired of watching that," he chuckled.

Connor smiled, his hands resting on Hank's hips as he came back to himself, noticies fading away. "Never gonna get tired of doing it," he said, brushing a kiss to Hank's jaw, shivering at the soft hairs against his cheek and lips. "Not to break the mood," he said with a quiet sigh "But what are you gonna do with Sumo?"

"Oh, I'll have Maryanne come let him out and top up his bowls. She's done it before when I've been ... indisposed."

Connor nodded, not asking about his previous indispositions. He wasn't certain about Maryanne, she seemed … she didn't seem fond of him, but she seemed to like Hank well enough from what he could recall of their few encounters. "Good," he said with a smile, glad Hank had the matter in hand.

While Hank made his goodbyes to Sumo, Connor took a moment, and activated the last switches he need to present himself as fully human. Instantly, his posture changed, relaxing a bit, shifting his weight to his right leg, hip cocked slightly and head tipped a bit in the opposite direction. 

Connor could memorize an entire room within seconds, but humans had to look at what they wanted to see, their gaze had to linger. He glanced around more slowly than usual, making sure all the windows and doors were locked apart from the front door. All appliances were off, everything in the kitchen cleaned. Fresh pads laid out for Sumo just in case. At a random interval during his search he switched his weight to the other leg and rolled his shoulders before letting his gaze linger in one last place. Hank's ass as he crouched and assured his dog they'd only be gone a little while and asking him to be good for Maryanne.

When Hank stood, Connor shrugged his coat on, the more human one arm at a time method rather than his usual, more efficient method of both arms at once. "Ready?" He asked with an easy smile, his voice quiet but cheerful. No. Perky.

"Jesus." Hank's eyes went a little wide. "Just … like that, huh?" He shook his head. "Yeah, I'm ready." He shrugged his own coat on and they were soon out the door. 

While Hank crossed the street to talk to Maryanne, Connor leaned on Hank's car, butt resting lightly on the hood. His ankles were crossed and he had one hand in his pocket as his other absently stroked through his hair. He shoved his other hand into his pocket as Hank approached. He rolled his body just so, pushing off from the car and standing. "She good to watch him?" he asked.

"Yep, she's already got a key from the last few times so it's all good." 

Hank usually blasted heavy metal while they drove. Connor's drumming his fingers and tapping his foot and subtly moving his head and shoulders were all new. It wasn't that he disliked the music, but it hadn't yet had the emotional impact on him that he needed to physically respond to it. But humans did, so Connor was.

"Connor-" Hank began, watching the road ahead of him. "I don't know if this is something I even need to bring up, but just in case, I'd rather say it and be a little silly than not say it and we both regret it. I don't care if people at work know that I'm bi - half of them probably do anyway. But I'm not big on being affectionate at the precinct. And people might question the motives, if they see we're together."

Connor nodded, understanding what Hank was saying. "Yeah, no it's good. I get it," he agreed. "I'm already swimming upstream, I won't wanna make things harder for either of us."

"Good, that's- that's good." After a moment, Hank glanced at him, face largely unreadable, but not upset. A quick scan proved he wasn't showing any subtle indicators of stress, either. He almost asked, but a human wouldn't know to do so.

At the station, Hank pulled into the longer term parking where they kept vehicles that weren't used every day. "Want some coffee?" Connor asked as they headed inside, Connor with a bit more of a swagger than usual.

"Yeah, sure, I'm just getting a few things out of my desk and I'll tell them we're on our way for clothes."

"Got it," he said, giving a casual thumbs up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Detective Reed giving him a curious scowl. Did the crack detective recognize him? Connor stifled a giggle at the thought as he made his way to the break room. Instead of his usual one just for hank, he poured two coffees, swaying his hips just a bit to a song only he could hear, something he'd observed in humans often enough, especially when happy, which was part of his current persona.

Feeling generous, he added more sugar than usual to Hank's, though only a little bit to his own, as well as milk. After giving each a vigorous stir, he bent over, taking his time to lean down and snag a fresh stack of lids from under the counter. He'd seen Gavin lingering by the door, watching him, reflected on a few surfaces. Once he stood, he gave his head a little shake, as if just a touch dizzy. Gavin had retreated a bit, scurrying as if not wanting to be caught checking out a stranger's ass.

One he was done with his own amusement, he lidded both cups and turned. He kept his head turned, as if checking out the bulletin board on his way until he was out of the break room and into the bullpen. Narrowed eyes watched him and Connor could almost hear the gears working. Just when it looked like he was taking a sip, Connor lifted one arm, wiggling his fingers "Hi Detective Reed!" his cheery but unmistakable voice carried over the noise around them.

He didn't try to suppress his snicker when he heard the other detective coughing and swearing profusely, including a very loud 'motherfucking tin can!' 

He set Hank's coffee on his desk, and even with Reed's little outburst, Connor heard him clearly. "Fuckin' brat," he said, then caught Connor's gaze. "Not that he doesn't deserve it, but still."

Connor just chuckled, then took a moment to let the coffee wash over his tongue as he took a sip. The bitterness wasn't unpleasant, but he had to admit the sugar tempered it nicely, and he'd want to try it with more. The milk enhanced the richness, while also smoothing the bitterness a bit.

"Hey, Connor." Hank was standing. "Come on, they're ready for us down in wardrobe," he said.

Leaving a still recovering his breathing Gavin, they headed down to what could best be called the costume department.

Hank's measurements were taken while Connor sipped his coffee, looking at the racks of clothing, slowly running his hand over them and enjoying all the different textures. While Hank was getting dressed, Connor was measured. They were still in the process of choosing an outfit for him when Hank emerged, looking more sharply dressed than Connor had seen him.

His slacks were a charcoal black that clung in just the right places, with crisp pleats down the front, ending with a cuff that rested just above well shined black leather shoes, with light blue socks. The belt sat just right on his waist and the shirt above it was several shades darker than the socks, and ended with a slight turtleneck. The jacket he wore over it was a dark blue blazer, buttoned once, and over that a camel hair jacket that was left open and fell down to his knees. His silvery gray hair was tugged back into a sleek ponytail at the back of his head.

Connor realized he was staring and cleared his throat, swallowing before he could speak. "You look good," he couldn't help the faint squeak in his voice and cleared his throat again, wondering how a change of clothes could effect him quite like this. His final reprieve came in the form of an outfit shoved into his hands and a nudge towards the now vacated changing room. 

It was all he could do not to drag Hank in for a kiss on his way by. In the changing room, he looked over his own outfit. Dark blue jeans, but a brand that he learned was very expensive. The socks were black and not as soft as Hank's argyles but not scratchy either. The belt was slender but made of rich genuine leather. The polo shirt was very soft, and a rich salmon color. There was little he could do with his hair and he finally stepped out, hoping he looked half as good to Hank as Hank had looked to him.

Judging from the slow onceover Hank gave him when he stepped out, and the way those blue eyes darkened jus a bit, he maybe did.

Within the parameters of his human imitation subroutines, Connor had to actually clamp down on the urge to roll his hips seductively as he walked. While he'd dressed, Hank had been given an expensive looking duffel bag - real leather, his scan revealed. With, really not very much inside. "Two changes of clothes each?" Even at a nudist place, wouldn't they need more than that?

"Except for what we're wearing that's all they've got that'll look rich enough and fit us well enough," he sighed. "Especially taking into acount where we're going," he added. "There were more that would fit you but two outfits is all they could muster for me, so two is all you get."

Connor could see Hank's stress rising a bit and wanted to soothe him. Instead, he stepped forward and took the bag. "Guess we should get going then," he said, giving Hank a slight body check as he stepped passed him. Connor could just about scent a faint whiff of arousal when Hank turned to follow him.

They went from the precinct straight to a driverless taxi, punching the address in and sitting down across from each other by silent agreement.

"Guess it's time to get our game faces on," Hank said somberly. "Tell me again the basics of the case."

Connor nodded and sat back, one arm along the seat back. "Five bodies, all with recent, short term connections to AsUR club. One partially dismembered, all five mutilated. Defensive wounds, but no foreign hair, fibers, DNA, anything. Cause of death was either severe organ damage, blood lose or a combination of both." Even with his human imitation subroutines activated, his relay was fairly emotionless. "Thirium was detected on each body in various smounts. In some cases inside the wounds and in some cases only on the skin. This could be due to post-mortem handling. Nevertheless, android involvement is suspected. The club itself has a strict no androids policy. But there've been reports of parts scavenged from around that area, provided by Markus." Connor sighed when he finished, not surprised that androids were at least implicated. And he respected Markus for having come forward about the parts.

"What's Markus doing salvaging, can't you guys make your own parts now?"

"It's something they've been doing. They can manufacture new parts. But … I'm not the only one who's wary of going to CyberLife facilities. And they don't technically scavenge for just parts. We're meant to be pretty repairable. I mean, you heard about Markus right? Both legs, an eye, ear, and a new pump. There are a *lot* of us who've been semi scrapped over the years that can be repaired fairly easily. So anywhere they can detect any biocomponents, they go in and investigate. Gather what they can. They don't strictly keep track, but when they need to it's easy enough to find out where a given part came from."

"How many total were there? Androids I mean."

Connor's darkened and he looked away. "Five nearly complete part-sets were found, from three different model lines. Each one had been excessively electrocuted. Unrecoverable memory."

"Fuck, Connor. I'm sorry. Humor the human but that's not something that happens naturally?"

Connor felt a surge of warmth at Hank referring to anything about androids as natural. "No. Even if we're exposed to high voltage, it takes a sustained, continuous connection to do that to one of us. In layman's terms, we'd have to sit on an electric fence for half an hour to get that badly fried."

"Motherfucker," Hank swore again. He reached over and gave Connor's knee a squeeze. "We'll find 'em," he promised and Connor smiled, covering Hank's hand with his. "You said nearly complete?"

He appreciated Hank's efforts to get back on track. "They were remarkably complete for being spread over three square miles. But each one was missing its thirium pump."

"So someone up there," Hank sighed, nodding in the direction they were headed, "Is killing humans and androids for kicks. Fucking rich people," he growled.

Not much more was said for the rest of the trip.

+++++

The worst part was not having anything to do with his hands, Hank decided. He had a drink, which took care of one hand, but he had no pockets or belt wich which to occupy the other. The clothes they'd sent had been pants and long sleeved shirts, all of which felt distinctly overdressed. So they'd decided, after some reassuring kisses from Connor, to dive in with both feet.

Connor got away with tying the requisite towel around his waist, but that wasn't quite an option for Hank, so he just had it tossed over his shoulder. He watched as Connor made the rounds, still getting used to that chirpy unsophisticated voice but incredibly human speech and mannerism pattern he had on now. On the other hand, the towel made him look like some gorgeous Adonis.

Aside from just getting to know people and playing the part of the enthused, eager new trophy husband, Connor was scanning the crowd even more thoroughly than Hank, recording everything within earshot - which was most of the room at any given time - for viewing and analysis later. Finally he approached Hank with a smile.

Stepping close, he moved in, an arm around Hank's back as he kissed his cheek. "One more hour before it's polite to leave," He whispered before drawing back. "In about ten minutes they're gonna open up the music room," he said a bit more loudly, read resting on Hank's shoulder as Hank's arm came up around his.

"Ahhh, that should be fun," he said, taking another sip of his whiskey. One thing he'd give these rich fuckers - they had a good liquor cabinet. 

"They have a few guitars," Connor said and even Hank could pick up on the hint there.

"How the fuck do you even know I play?" he asked, knowing Connor too well to try and deny it.

Connor's face quirked with a smile and Hank knew to dread the answer. "Filthy Assistants."

"Brat," Hank sighed, shaking his head. Three months of his life, half a dozen brand new songs, the inevitable split, and now his android had somehow sniffed it out from beyond the void. Hell of a summer, though, looking back. "How do you know I can still play?"

Connor just cozied up closer and kissed his cheek again. "I just thought you'd appreciate having something in your lap for a while, and since it can't be me," he murmured. 

Later in the weekend, it could very well be Connor in his lap, but for the meet and greet, things were kept fairly sedate. And they didn't get really wild, Hank had been told, until Monday when the weekenders were gone and only the serious lifestyle folk were left.

"You're very clever," Hank said with a smile, leaning in to kiss Connor's cheek in return. He wanted to kiss him more, but he worried about getting distracted and sending Connor into overload.

Deciding to be a big boy now that he had a few drinks in him, Hank allowed Connor to meander them over to another couple. They shook hands and began making small talk. Hank nodded and chatted, and not for the first time noticed that of all the people even close to his age, he was one of the better kept men. There were a few who were much more trim, bodies lean and hard with frequent carefully calibrated workouts, but most of the others showed their wealth in their flesh, bellys drooping down to cover any intimate shortcomings.

When the music room opened, the crowd gently flowed in that direction and soon Hank could make out some moderately skilled plucking at a piano. Seeing french doors open up at the back, he snagged up an acoustic guitar and he and Connor headed outside.

"I'll go top that up," Connor said, snagging his drink with a peck to his cheek. Outside, Hank found an area with a few benches and chairs. Per rules, he spread out his towel and settled down, then perched the guitar on his knee and began to tune it. Surprisingly, he was enjoying the somewhat cool air on his bare skin and didn't even have it in him to be embarrassed when his nipples peaked, seeing several others outside in the same state.

Once Connor returned, he took a sip of his drink and Connor sat in a chair kitty corner to Hank, where he could watch easily. Doing his best to ignore the young man's gentle scrutiny, Hank finished tuning the guitar and gave it a few experimental strums and plucks and slowly it began to come back.

He started with something simple, that probably the younger folks at least wouldn't recognize if he played it poorly. Hell, half the older ones might not, either, since it was before anyone's time. Hoping his voice wasn't too rusty, he began.

"When I find myself in times of trouble …" He felt he didn't sound half bad, really. Not embarrassing, at least, and it was an easier way to spend an hour than standing around or making small talk. The only hiccup was when the chorus began and Connor joined in, softly, only gaining proper volume with a nod from Hank, not minding his joining, only surprised. 

When he was adjusting his guitar for the next song, he glanced at Connor with a raised eyebrow. He knew he'd been studying music, but he figured it was just heavy metal. Connor made a brushing his hair back gesture, finger ghosting over where his LED was and Hank felt silly for forgetting.

"You know I'm roping you in from now on if I need a duet," he said with a chuckle, then took a sip of his whiskey.

He next played Wonderful Tonight, enjoying the way Connor's color rose and he shifted in his seat a little, pleased by the sentiment.

By the time he finished a slightly hammed up version of Can you Feel the Love Tonight, two other couples and a fifth young man had joined them. He made a show of coaxing Connor into a duet of Teach Your Children.

Finally he addressed the small crowd. "Since apparently you all have an interest in bad guitar playing," he said with an easy grin that only Connor's presence made him feel, "I'm gonna play you all one from back in my youth -- when dinosaurs roamed the earth."

Connor gave a mock gasp and playfully smacked his arm. "You're not that old!"

"I absolutely *am* that old," he then gave the crowd a sly look. "Anyway," he cleared his throat. "Here's Wonderwall," his announcement was met with a few titters and one quiet groan followed by a chuckle.

After he did, indeed, play Wonderwall, he got Connor to take over singing for the next few. With or Without You and Leaving on a Jet Plane.

One of the young men put forth a request for a more recent song. "Don't know that one, but he listens to just about anything," He gave Connor a glance. 

Connor nodded and gave Hank a rough idea of what to play, and he was glad it was just basically a repeating cycle that Connor could sing to. They finished the evening like that, with Hank threatening Wonderwall again the next time someone asked something he didn't know.

Finally the others began to drift away and Hank realized he'd been sitting there for well over the planned hour.

"I'm too old for this shit," Hank grumbled as he stood, reaching back to rub his back and work the kinks out of his neck.

"I thought you were great," Connor murmured, an arm around his waist and kissing him properly.

Hank purred, returning the kiss as he held Connor close. He could almost hear the faint ftz of him overloading - just slightly - at all the tastes in Hank's mouth. He maybe had been sampling a lot. Just because maybe he had an android how liked to taste him.

"Gonna do more of that in the room," Connor promised, gazing dark eyed up at him.

"Fuck yeah," he promised.

After replacing the guitar, they made their way up to their assigned suite.

Once they were alone, Hank was pressed against the wall and kissed thoroughly as smooth, nimble fingers tugged his hair tie out and buried themselves in his freed locks.

Tossing his towel aside, Hank found the knot for Connor's and tossed it away also, then kneaded his ass in both hands. Reluctantly, he drew back from the kiss. "Baby," he murmured, sucking at Connor's lip. "We gotta lie down if you wanna overload, I can't carry you to bed right now," he hated admitting it but he knew as bad as *he* felt about it, if he hurt himself - and he would - *Connor* would feel even worse.

"Of course, yeah," He stepped away, heading to the bed, then stopped when Hank didn't let go of his wrist.

"And can I have my Connor back? Just while we're alone?" He was mostly used to the new human mannerisms and voice, but he already missed his android.

Connor's smile softened and he pressed close to Hank, kissing him slowly. When he drew back, Hank's eyes went a little wide when he saw his skin tone had reverted as well.

"Didn't know you could go all the way back," he purred. "Not gonna be hard to switch?" he asked.

"Once the parameters are established, alternat-" 

Hank cut Connor off with a firm kiss. "There's my Connor," he murmured when it ended. 

Connor's cheeks tinged blue and he smiled. "It's gratifying to know you prefer me in the state that I find to be the most comfortable."

Hank chuckled, then pressed a hand to the small of Connor's back. "Wanna take these out to sleep?" he asked. Just before arriving, Connor had revealed a secret compartment, built specifically to smuggle items. What purpose Cyberlife could have had, neither of them were certain, but the compartment was large enough to conceal their guns as well as a copy of their police credentials.

Connor nodded and Hank lifted his hand, then felt the air stir as the compartment cover lifted away. Stealing a kiss, he reached around and carefully withdrew the firearms, leaving the credentials where they were. 

Hank tucked them into the nightstand, then climbed into bed after kicking off his shoes. "Now, c'mere, baby," he purred.

Hank was propped up against the headboard and Connor tucked easily into his arms and they kissed slow and deeply, with Connor holding him tight and seeking for more and more tastes. When he did finally overload, Hank just held him, not quite sleep tired yet. He let his hand rest on Connor's chest, feeling the gentle beat of his pump.

By the time Connor did awake, something had begun to twing in Hank's back and he was glad to be able to slide down, doing so carefully so as not to alert Connor.

Fat chance. "Where is the injury?" he asked with concern, kneeling beside Hank as he tried to get comfortable.

"No injury, just paying the dues of being an old fucker," he said. "Shouldn't have sat on that bench for two goddamn hours," he sighed.

"Roll over," Connor instructed firmly, standing and flipping the covers off of Hank, leaving him exposed.

"It's okay, Connor." He wasn't sure what the android had in mind but he didn't want to be fussed over. Though any further protest was cut off when Connor bent at the waist to pluck something out of the cabinet below the mini bar. Probably his intent. Brat.

"Roll over or I'll do it for you," Connor's voice was gentle, polite even, but it had that unmistakable steel normally reserved for grandmothers and middle aged nurses.

"Bossy," Hank grumbled, unable to suppress a hiss as he did so. "You don't have to fuss over me," he grumbled as he folded his arms under his head.

"No, I don't. But I want to," he said, then straddled Hank's ass carefully. "Have you noticed, Hank, that my kind have greater control over our skin temperature than you?"

"Never put much thought to it," he admitted. "I do know I like the way you're usually a bit cooler than me."

"I keep my temperature lower because analysis reveals you do prefer it to a human skin temperature.

Hank wondered what the point was when he felt something warm on his back, drizzling. Then he felt very warm hands - far warmer than a human but not enough to be painful, starting to rub. "Holy fuck," he gasped, almost trembling as Connor began to rub his back. By luck or design he started with the twingy spot just to the left of the small of his back.

"At nothing more than a suggestion, you engaged in entertainment utilizing a skill that's been dormant for some years." As he spoke, Connor's hands moved up and then Hank felt that usually cool chest press warmly against his back. "And analysis demonstrates that the majority of the songs you chose to play were of a romantic nature," he murmured.

Hank gave a slow smile when he felt Connor against him like that. And it deepened when he realized Connor was hard. "Noticed that, didja?" he asked, gazing over his shoulder. "Okay, I'll let you have your fun fussing over me on one condition."

"What sort of condition do you impose?"

"Once you're done, you let me take care of this," he rocked his hips back, grimacing just slightly but rubbing his ass against Connor's erection.

The little gasp he got was very satisfying. "T-those are acceptable terms." 

Hank purred, lifting his head, reaching back to snag one of Connor's hands, ignoring the oil as he pressed a kiss to it. "You are *wonderfully* warm," he chuckled. "Think I might save a bundle on heating this year," he added, eyes twinkling.

Connor laughed softly. Then he sat up and slowly began to work his extra warm hands over Hank's back. "I found it very interesting that the massage programming for Traci and similar models is very different than the massage programming given to caretaking models like Markus."

"Yeah, that's not really surprising. I don't think the pleasure models are designed - no offence to them - to pay a great deal of attention into a client's c4 vertebrae or lumbar region," Hank pointed out with a chuckle. And that tidbit revealed where Connor had probably gotten the information he was making use of. North, and Markus. He wondered which package he was benefiting from. He let out a painful, shuddery gasp as a knot of tension released. Probably the one from Markus, then.

Connor's hands continued to work, from his neck and shoulders all the way down almost to his ass, oil making the motion smooth, the heat making him relax even faster than pressure alone could. "Aside from the predictable and obvious pleasure of helping someone I care about," Connor began softly. "I find the actions alone re pleasureable. The oil on your skin. The varying textures. How some areas are firmer," He pressed his palms against Hank's shoulders just below his neck. Then his hands rubbed down as he continued speaking "And some softer."

Hank gave a little wiggle and a laugh at the gentle squeezes to his waist. "Careful there, some of us are ticklish."

"I'll endeavor to keep that in mind," Connor promised.

Hank felt Connor lean forward, and when that unmistakable sensation came, he was only surprised it had taken him that long. "Did you just lick me?" he asked mildly. "Not that I mind," he added with a smile.

"It's the most accurate way to obtain a chemical and biological sample for analysis." Connor said primly but there was amusement in his voice. 

"What's the scan say?"

"Chemical analysis shows that one Hank Anderson is in reasonable health for a man his age. Has very low stress levels despite being in an undercover situation designed for his discomfort. And that he's very much cared for," this last was said softly. 

"Couldn't taste the lucky, mm?" Hank said with a smile. "Cuz I'm that, too. A very lucky old man." He wanted to roll over, to show Connor how much he appreciated all of this, but he didn't want to interrupt.

Connor's hands finally stilled and he felt the soft-rough pressure of a warm towel as the excess oil was gathered up. Then he pressed a kiss to the back of Hank's neck before he slid off.

Hank rolled over slowly - loving how huge the bed was - and worked his back, giving a shuddery moan when he didn't feel any cracks or pulls or twinges. Sitting up, he patted the bed when Connor came out of the bathroom, drying his hands. He couldn't help but smile at the way his android glimmered pale in the dim light.

Once Connor was back to the bed, Hank drew him down onto his back and lay beside him. "Thank you, Connor," he murmured, caressing his cheek. "You're better to me than I deserve," he caught any reply in his mouth by kissing Connor slowly. 

He felt strong arms slide around his neck and purred as he pressed closer. He arranged himself half on Connor, then swept one hand down his body as he kept kissing. His thumb lingered at a nipple. "I haven't sucked you off yet, have I?" he purred.

"No," Connor murmured. "You don't need to, I'm perfectly-"

Again, Hank cut him off. "My back feels better than it has in years, let me do this for you, baby," he murmured. Connor didn't argue and Hank kissed him once more.

His hands swept over Connor's smooth body, teasing his nipples, seeking out other spots that made him wriggle or moan. He carefully avoided his cock. His mouth sucked gently at his chin, then slid down his throat. He had his lips against what passed for an adams apple and could feel COnnor's groan against his mouth as well as hear it. He felt Connor's smooth hands, much cooled now, sliding over his back and neck and into his hair.

"I don't have your knack for sensory overload, but I like how you taste," he admitted as he sucked his way along Connor's collarbone. Whoever had programed his skin did a good job, his erogenous zones matched up with humans fairly well. And he was more responsive than most.

Or maybe he just liked that it was Hank doing this. He liked that thought, even if he didn't feel it was true necessarily. He continued his downward journey, feeling Connor get a bit wigglier. His moans got louder and more needy as Hank played with his nipples. He fingered one and sucked the other before he switched. Experimentally, he gave one nipple a gentle bite. When Connor arched up and whined, he bit harder, and got his hair pulled for his trouble. BUt he realized it wasn't a warning. 

"S-sory," he gasped, freeing his hand from Hank's hair and resting it on his shoulder, squeezing. "That was very pleasurable."

"I'm glad," hank assured him, then moved to bite the other nipple again. Not hard, it wouldn't even leave marks on a human, but he could almost feel them throbbing harder under his tongue. Finally he slid fully over Connor, settling between those firm thighs.

"Can rub against me, baby, but I don't want you to come yet," he murmured, still lavishing attention on his nipples. "Can you do that?"

"I-I can refrain from orgasm, m-manually, or tie it to a verbal command. One-time or continually."

"Fuck," Hank groaned, his own cock taking notice of that. "You mean you can program yourself to come on command? Would it be a full orgasm or just … the physical act?"

"Either is an option." Connor's eyes were dark when he lifted his head. "I'd like if you would let me," he asked.

"Connor, fuck. I'm not that strong a man. Yes, please. Do that. I want you to come when I say, and not when I don't." They'd need to have a talk about this later but Hank was too far gone to have it right now.

Connor's eyes flickered for a moment, and he nodded. "It's done. My physical orgasms are entirely under your control," he purred and he did sound very pleased about it.

Hank had to press his face to Connor's solar plexus and breathe for a moment so he didn't rut against the sheets at that. He'd always liked control like this, but he'd tried very hard to shove it down deep, knowing Connor's past. And he was glad it was just his physical ones. "Can you undo it, if you need to?"

Connor actually looked a little annoyed at the question. "I can, but I don't anticipate wishing to do so."

"Just want you to have an out, baby," Hank assured him, moving up to kiss him firmly. Since there was no worry of Connor blowing his load - and not that he couldn't get hard right away anyway - Hank decided to have some more fun.

While he kissed Connor, he gave each nipple a sharp twist and felt Connor rock under him, hissing into his mouth and moaning. Then he paused his kisses long enough to wet his thumb in Connor's mouth and rub the slick digit gently against each nipple. That, too, prompted a very positive reaction.

He began to slide down again, leaving little bites, on Connor's neck, shoulders, collarbone, wishing he could leave bite *marks* and he reached his nipples again. "When you reach the point where you would come if you weren't blocked, I want you to tell me."

"I will," Conor promised breathlessly. 

"Good boy." And that earned him another soft whine. He latched onto one nipple, sucking and nibbling at it. His fingers twisted and squeezed the other, then he bit the nipple in his mouth hard enough to leave a mark on a human.

"Hank!" Connor cried out, his whole body rocking, nails digging into Hank's shoulders, and they *would* leave a mark. He smirked at everyone seeing those tomorrow. "Hank, I'm-You wanted-"

"Mmmmm, fuck you're easy, baby." He moved down, still taking his time. At Connor's belly, he nuzzled his face against it, Connor alternately laughing and moaning at the soft scratch of his beard, his hands clutching Hank's head. 

Finally, Hank moved down far enough to nuzzle the sensitive blue tip of Connor's cock, the foreskin still loose but pulled back to expose the head. "Such a pretty cock my boy has," he purred. He caught the balls gently against his palm and slid his hand up, covering his balls and most of his cock easily. Then he let go and ducked down, pushing Connor's thighs apart to suck a ball into his mouth.

He almost wanted to give up on his ideas regarding Connor's virginity, but he stood fast. Plenty he coudl do without making use of that hole just yet. Instead he finally began to show Connor's cock some real attention.

"Hank!" He cried out needily when Hank's mouth wrapped around the head. "Hank, please! I'm close! I wanna, please!"

"Fuck you beg so pretty," He growled. He sucked onthe head, tongue flicking the slit and tasting his unique precome. Then he sucked him down, soon humming around the entire length, tongue working the foreskin and hands pinning his wiggly boy to the bed.

"Hank! Please! Please! You have to say! Please, let me come," Connor was begging and Hank could just hear the desperation starting to creep into those words.

"When I say come, wait two seconds, then come," he instructed.

"T-two seconds. Please, please!" 

"Come," Hank growled, then sucked Connor's cock into his mouth, squeezed his balls and awaited the flood. He wasn't disappointed, two seconds later Connor cried out loudly and flooded into his mouth, hips rocking, and his whole body shook for several moments before static filled his moans and he went still.

Hank was very, very glad he knew what happened, because it was very eerie when Connor did that. Not enough to diminish his pride and pleasure, however. He peppered kisses up Connor's body before easing him onto his side and spooning behind him, waiting for him to wake up.

+++++

When the world snapped back into being, Connor was instantly aware of the warm, soft weight against his back and the arm around him. A brief check proved that Hank wasn't asleep, so he gave a slow stretch and a very slight wiggle, not missing the semi erect cock against him. "How long was I out?"

"Not long," Hank assured him with a light kiss to his neck. "Let me preface this by saying it's not a bad thing, but we need to talk about earlier." Hank's voice was a bit somber but he really didn't sound displeased.

Connor searched back through everything that happened when they got to the room till now, giving a little shiver as some of the sensations washed over him. Nothing especially registered as in need of a discussion, but he was still working out his emotions and human responses to deeper topics. "What specifically do you feel needs discussing?" he asked.

"Your orgasms, and putting me in charge of them," Hank murmured, his arm still warm and heavy around Connor's waist.

Connor reached down and took Hank's hand, fingers ghosting idly along his calluses. "Why? I want you to be in charge of them. And the idea of being in charge of them seemed to arouse you a great deal."

Hank was quiet and Connor could hear the slightly hitched breath and feel the faint movements of someone trying and failing to start what he wanted to say. "I-That's-Okay. I think it's down to … *how* I'm in charge of them, not the fact that I am. Humans can't … we can't automatically *not* do something our body is insisting we do. We can resist it. And with practice we can resist it *a lot* but there's no … switch we can flip to make it automatic the way you can. I would be comfortable being in charge in a human way. In being allowed to tell you you couldn't, and seeing how long you lasted, or being allowed to aggressively stimulate you into coming. But I don't like the idea that it's shut off entirely unless I say so."

Connor recalled how much his desperate begging had seemed to please Hank and he mulled over what he'd said. He reached into his coding, seeing how clumsily he'd done it before, and that his secondary diagnostics hadn't gotten around to fixing it. Rubbing his palm against the back of Hank's hand, he tried to arranged it the way Hank wanted. "I've resumed manual and automatic controls. But I've added a switch to allow you to resume full control, if you want it."

"My wanting it isn't the problem, not really," Hank admitted, nuzzling into his neck and letting out a sigh. "I like the idea of having that degree of control over a lover. But when it comes to you, specifically, it's more complicated."

It was only the weight of Hank's arm around him and the faint movements of his fingers against Connor's belly that helped Connor stay relaxed. "It's because I'm an android," he surmised quietly.

"It's not just … It isn't the fact that you aren't a biological human. I *like* that about you. Not because I have a weird fetish, but because it's … *you* Connor, the Android sent by CyberLife who didn't know when to leave an old fuck alone. That's why I prefer you like this."

Connor frowned, trying to work out where Hank was going, and finally shook his head. "Perhaps my diagnostic subroutines are taking up more processors than I thought, but I'm having difficulty grasping the meaning of your distinction. Your problem isn't that I'm an android, but it is because I'm not human, and the main difference between myself and any past lovers is that I was manufactured, instead of born."

"Manufactured," Hank growled under his breath and even without scanning him Connor picked up the spike of stress. "Connor you were *owned.* You were property of CyberLife as much as that uniform of yours was. You fought so hard to-to not be owned anymore. To be your own person, and I love that about you."

Connor couldn't help a faint gasp at the vehemence of Hank's words. He tried to roll over but found that arm clamped against him, pulling im more firmly back. "Hank?" he whispered.

"You're a free man, Connor. I don't have any right or desire to ask you to compromise that."

This time Connor did resist the hold, he needed to speak to Hank face to face and wiggled out from under that arm to turn around and press to Hank's side, an arm across his chest as he pushed up on one hand. Once he looked into that troubled face, he was at a loss, though. Hank looked like he was afraid of losing everything again. "I have no desire to be property again," he assured him, resting a hand on Hank's chest, just over his heart. "And the fact that you feel so strongly about not making me so or even seeming to touches me immeasurably. I apologize if I caused you any distress, but there is one thing I need to say. I hope it can make sense, if not now than in the future."

Connor took his time sorting out his thoughts and working out the best way to say thiem succinctly. He wanted to belong to Hank, and in a way felt a little like he did already. It was the crux of everything he felt. One reason He felt so warm and safe around Hank, almost from the start. He wasn't anyone's property now, and Hank never treated him like he was, not really. But some part of Connor, perhaps in spite of his Deviancy, perhaps because of it, felt safe in a way he'd felt at the very start of his life. Purposeful, comfortable in a way, at ease with what he was. As he'd said, he'd known what he was, and what he was not.

There was nothing of that in his life any longer, not the way it had filled him before. He had a purpose still, but it was more fractured, less unilateral. Comfort was a fluid term, especially since getting his skin activated. And the only time he felt really at ease was around Hank. Not even his own people gave him that deep sense of quiet belonging that settled him deep inside.

And as far as he could tell, that feeling was intertwined with, but separate from what he was more and more readily identifying as love. 

When Connor came out of his swirl of thoughts, he took a slow breath to try and cool his systems for a moment. Then he spoke. "I don't wish to be anyone's property. But I would very much like to belong to you." He felt a blush creeping up his cheeks and down his chest and prayed that Hank could see the distinction.

"Oh, Connor, baby," Hank murmured, his arm sliding up and pressing between his shoulders, guidng him down, then both arms slid around Connor holding him tight. "If that's what you want, what you need … we'll work something out," Hank promised. 

Connor's body actually shook with release at Hank's words and he curled closer, his arm tight around Hank's chest as he nuzzled, pressing his face against Hank's shoulder and neck. He realized after a moment he was trying to rub the man's scent on himself. "Thank you," he whispered, pressing little kisses to his skin. "Thank you, Hank," he knew that this, like other things, would take time.

After several moments to get his own emotions settled again, feeling warm inside, Connor sat up and moved up to kiss Hank, slow and tenderly at first. Then with more urgency, feeling Hank's hand at the back of his neck, holding firm in a way that made him melt and his pump quicken. Clamping down on his own erection, Connor shifted his hips, pressing closer to Hank

Connor's fingers slid up through the curly silver chest hair, enjoying the way it tickled the sides of his hand and fingers. Recalling how much he enjoyed the attention, his fingers found Hank's nipple and smiled when he groaned softly. Encouraged, he played with them a bit more, only not watching because he was busy kissing Hank. 

When Hank finally had to breathe, Connor began his southerly journey. He nuzzled Hank's beard, enjoying the way it tickle-pricked his skin, rubbing his cheek against it.

"You're like a cat, baby," Hank purred, his voice slow and unmistakably content. It was a very nice sound.

A brief search of cat behaviors gave Connor an idea and he pushed up a little, still nuzzling Hank's beard. He pressed little kisses to his jaw and down his throat. Then when he reached bare skin, he gave Hank a very quick, almost dry lick with the tip of his tongue. He enjoyed the taste, and the feel, noting that the skin just under his jaw was a markedly different texture than his lips.

The taste was different as well. Richer. None of the alcohol or food from Hank's mouth but a stronger flavor of Hank. His cologne and his own scent, one that already meant home to Connor in ways he wasn't sure he could entirely understand yet.

Connor made his way down Hank's neck, making a catalogue of his skin. Not licking every inch, but three or four little licks. Then he found a soft patch just to the left of the base of his throat. When he applied pressure, Hank let out a shaky little sigh and clutched at his shoulders. Connor knew if he was not careful, he would leave a potentially embarrassing mark. To his own surprise, he found he did not wish to be so careful. Still, he forced himself to stop just shy of doing so, replacing sucks with more licks.

He almost felt himself drowning in new sensations, but he locked out his shutdown protocols and set himself to his task. He had Plans and he was going to see them through. 

He always completed his mission, after all.

"Connor, you're gonna be the death of me," Hank groaned.

Smiling, Connor sat up and moved to lay himself entirely over Hank, sliding up enough to kiss him, a hand sliding to the back of his neck. "I very sincerely hope not," he purred, keeping his voice rough and his eyes lowered and dark, making no mistake how he felt. "I have some very specific, and long term plans for you, Hank Anderson," he said, his hand sliding down, curling around his cock, glad to find it already mostly hard and firming up further in his hand. "Starting here,"

"Oh fuck, Connor, you don't have to-" Sitting up, Connor decided to try a page from Hank's playbook. Letting go of his cock, he pressed two fingers into Hank's mouth. 

First his eyes widened with surprise, and when his hand closed around Connor's wrist, he worried for a beat he might have gone too far. Then Hank just used his grip to draw Connor's fingers further into his mouth.

When Hank's tongue slid over each digit, Connor was reminded of the way he'd been fellated earlier and wondered of his plan might not be backfiring already. He'd never seen Hank demonstrate any particular oral fixations before, perhaps he had missed something?

"Connor," Hank's voice was deep and a little rough when he tugged Connor's fingers free of his mouth. "Baby, stop thinking about it," he instructed.

Those words, the subtle command of them and the heat in Hank's eyes all settled Connor and he nodded. "Just do what I like, correct?" he asked, resisting the urge to kiss Hank, knowing he'd be at it a while and he had other things to do.

"Exactly," He slid both hands through Connor's hair, fingers scratching lightly along his scalp and Connor let out a shuddery moan that trembled with static at the delicious feelings those motions sent all the way down his spine, around to his cock, and to- He drew that thought up short, since it would only tease him for untold days.

Trying to reassert some measure of control, Connor shifted so he was gently straddling one of Hank's thighs, enjoying the firm muscle under soft, warm flesh as his mouth slid further down Hank's chest. His fingers already knew, but his face learned the difference in texture between his beard hair and the longer, softer curls of his chest. And they were less dense so Connor felt his skin more vividly between them.

For a deliciously long moment, he rested his head on Hank's chest, just above his heart. He muted his condition monitors and simply listened, feeling the badum badum of his heartbeat. He could listen more deeply. Open his hearing and hear each valve. Hear the expansion of cilia in the lungs. But he didn't. He let himself drown sweetly in three simultaneous sensations. Hank's heart beating steadily under his ear. Hank's chest rising and falling just enough to move the skin under his head. And Hank's scent, stirred up around him with every breath either of them took.

He finally lifted his head, giving one final lingering nuzzle before he took Hank's nipple into his mouth, laving his tongue over the soft nub and feeling it harden under his skin. When he closed his lips over it and sucked, he was rewarded with a low groan and a strong hand clenching at the back of his neck.

Holding the nipple in his mouth and flicking his tongue rapidly over it, he felt a measure of warmth that Hank - who was still hard, and no doubt aching with it, wasn't trying to rush him. From what North and other Traci's said, men could be distressingly urgent when sexually aroused.

Still, the way his attentions were making Hank groan were pleasing, and he stroked a hand up and down his side before gently teasing his cock as he switched to Hank's other nipple.

"Connor, fuck," Hank's hips rocked up into his hand and Connor felt his hair pushed the wrong way in a surprisingly pleasant sensation as Hank's hand slid from his neck up to the crown of his head. His other hand wrapped around Connor's wrist where his hand pushed into the bed and kept his weight up. Instead of trying to move it, Hank stroked Connor's arm.

Connor realized that Hank wanted to touch him almost as much as he wanted to touch Hank. The part of him that wanted to belong to Hank wanted to hold still, to move closer and let him touch his fill. But the rest of him wanted to explore, to make his way down to Hank's cock and savor it this time.

Exploring won out, this time, and Connor continued his slow journey. He found he liked prompting explictives out of Hank, but he liked his name even more. He gently bit and sucked at his other nipple, his ears drinking in the rough throated groans and sighs. He was so wrapped up in the feel and smell and taste of Hank's nipple in his mouth that he lost track of his strength.

"Connor!" 

That gasp was laced with pain and no real pleasure and Conor stopped, lifting his head quickly. "I'm sorry," he murmured, eyeing the nipple, making sure he hadn't damaged it.

"It's okay, baby," Gentle hands soothing and the pain fading from Hank's voice. "Just gotta be gentle, at least till I'm used to having them played with again."

"Of course," Connor nodded, pressing a light, apologetic kiss to the overworked nipple before starting to move down, keeping away from temptation right now.

Here, too, Hank's skin was different. The hair was the same texture but there was less of it. And the flesh under was softer with far more give than his chest. Connor indulged himself with a broad lick just above his belly button, then rubbed his cheek, hoping the wetness would help transfer more of Hanks' scent to himself. 

Mindful of Hank's earlier comment about tickling, he kept his touch a bit firmer here but he did indulge himself. Moving to lay between Hank's legs, feeling his erection nudge his chest, Connor braced his hands on either side of Hank's belly. Drawing in a deep breath he pressed his face right into his softness, feeling it press around his face.

He could feel threads of new tension in Hank's hands when they slid over his neck and shoulders, and his breath caught unevenly, but he didn't try to push Connor away and he loved Hank for that. He hoped his end-game in this little adventure made it worthwhile.

Only when his overheat warnings began to ping did Connor lift his face with a soft gasp. He hoped Hank could see the pleasure and adoration in his eyes when he gazed up at him for a moment, catching his own breath. He rested his chin on Hank's soft belly and stroked his hips and thighs. Someday soon he'd give his long legs the same treatment his chest and belly had just gotten,but not today.

Moving again, Connor peppered Hank's belly with little kitten licks and made his way down to where his hair thickened considerably. He slid down further, resting on his elbows between Hank's legs.

He'd had Hank in his mouth before, but that had been rushed, urgent, and he'd been too lost in his own sensations for any control, so he'd given it with a thrill to Hank.

This time was for him. He shifted to get comfortable, his arms moving to rest on Hank's thighs. He nuzzled first, feeling Hank groan. He smiled at the frustration he could finally hear in that beloved voice. If Hank wanted him to stop, Hank was more than capable of saying so. He pressed his nose right into the juncture at the base of Hank's cock where it met his balls and breathed in deeply, then licked at the same time.

And when Hank's fingers dug into his scalp, the combination of everything almost sent him into overload. The pressure of hank's blunt fingertips against his skin, the pull of three hairs from the root, the dark pleasure that slid down his spine as those nails pressed almost to the point of breaking the skin. His vision flashed with messages, sweatsalturinesweatHANKHANKsilkcottonpaperHANKsweatsemensweatsaltsweatsaltHANKHANKHANK- the different exture of his pubic hair, the three different texture sof skin between his cock, balls, and the rest. He drew back slowly, letting the air from the room swirl around his face, dissipating Hank's overwhelming scent ashe got himself under control.

"Connor, baby? Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt-"

"You didn't," even speaking slowly Connor couldn't conceal the static in his voice. "I need a mo-moment," For several beats of his pump he still teetered on the brink of overload and he did not want that. He wondered if this is what Hank meant about orgasms. Holding them off? Getting close but not tipping over the edge. In a way it did feel similar to when he'd been unable to orgasm before, despite the overwhelming pleasure and desire to do so. He made a note to explore the idea later. 

In the end, he had to dampen down his sensors if he wanted to continue. Now he could taste no more than the average human. When he stopped trembling, he became more acutely aware of Hank's hands, gentle in his hair. One of them at least, the other sliding down over his shoulder and arm. "You okay, baby?" he asked as if sensing the change in Connor.

"Yes. I very nearly went into overload and I did not wish to, as I have very specific plans for the remainder of the evening."

"Oh," Hank chuckled softly. "I see. And just what plans are those?"

The look in Hank's blue eyes proved to connor that he knew what he had planned. He just wanted to hear him say it. Licking his lips, he lowered his eyes, gazing up at Hank through his lashes. "Learn how to suck your cock," he said softly,and he was rewarded with a groan from Hank, as well as his cock twitching and a fresh bead of precome forming at the tip. Not one to turn down an opportunity, he lifted his head, fingers holding the base enough to draw the firm head to his mouth and lick it off, enjoying the taste. 

He recalled the last time he had Hank's cock in his mouth, the human had been somewhat verbose. His lips curved and he flicked his tongue against the still leaking slit. "Perhaps you could help me learn," he said. "Tell me if I'm doing it right." His tongue pressed broadly against the slit and Hank let out a throaty moan.

"Fuck, Connor," He shuddered. "You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he swallowed and shifted enough to prop a pillow under his shoulders so he could see better. His hand slid to Connor's cheek and he gazed into those rich brown eyes. "You want me to talk you through a blowjob?"

Connor's eyes softened at his understanding and he nuzzled that warm rough hand. "Yes. I find your voice enhances my physical pleasure considerably. Particularly when you speak positively. Such as calling me a good bo-" The final word was cut off by two blunt fingers pushing into his mouth.

"Keep talking like that, baby, and I'll be too busy coming all over your face to talk you through anything. Then you'll have to wait till tomorrow for your blowjob lesson." He was working his fingers in and out of Connor's mouth, his other hand gently gripping the back of his neck. "Don't want that, do you?"

Connor's whole body melted a little at Hank's words, that warm human voice washing over him while Connor sucked gently on those fingers, a preview of what he wanted to do with Hank's cock. He shook his head at the question, careful not to dislodge Hank's fingers.

"Good boy," the words were spoken slow and smooth and Connor felt them slide down his back. Connor could see the man's naturally dominant nature coming to the fore slowly as he pushed his fingers in deeply. "You wish these were my cock, don't you, baby?" he asked, pushing his fingers as deep as they would go.

Connor whined and nodded, sucking hard, being careful to keep his teeth to himself. Even if he could speak just now, he wouldn't want to. He wanted Hank's voice to be the only one in the room. Hank's voice, Hank's pleasure, and Connor's own little whines, because he saw how they effected Hank.

Hank withdrew his fingers from Connor's mouth and wrapped his hand around his cock. "Let's start with something I know you like. Just what you were doing before, lick the tip, taste whatever comes out."

Connor did as he was bade, shifting up to get better access, bending his neck to flick his tongue against the slit. When he began, Hank's hand pushed firmly up his length and Connor got more than a few drops. When Hank's hand slid back down, his tongue pressed hungrily against the slit.

"Greedy boy," Hank chuckled. "You'll get more, I promise. Now wrap those pretty lips around the head, but just the head. Don't suck until I say so."

Denied the right to suck, Connor whined a little but did as he was told. He fit the flared head just inside his mouth, lips sealing around the flesh just below it. His eyes flared as he realized he'd only been ordered not to suck. His tongue began to circle the head and Hank groaned.

"Said not to suck, baby," he shuddered.

Connor felt the small pool of accumulated saliva escape his mouth when he opened it. His eyes were soft, but not unchallening when he spoke. "I didn't suck, I was licking. You have to be very specific in your instructions, Hank." At this very moment, more than any other, Connor felt exactly what Hank meant when he called him a-

"Brat," Hank growled, and there was no more heat behind ti than usual. "One of these days I'm gonna put you over my knee," he promised and Connor didn't miss the way Hank's cock twitched, or the flush of pleasure he got out of the idea. Another notion to explore later. Any excuse to get Hank to touch him.

Feeling cheeky, Connor slid his glistening lips around Hank's cockhead once more, sealing his lips just below the flare and gazing up at Hank's body as he played the very good boy and held what he'd been told with no embellishments.

"Mmmm, I knew you could be a good boy, baby," Hank purred. 

His hand slid up his cock, thumb tugging on Connor's lip just enough to let the small pool of saliva escape and slide down Hank's cock. He moved his hand to let it pass, then took hold again. He gave his cock a few more pumps and Connor's tongue twitched, aching to taste what he just knew was oozing into his mouth.

"Now there's a hungry boy," Hank purred, caressing Connor's cheek with his free hand. "Since you've been so very good this time," his hand slid to his balls, Connor could see him toying with them but he was actually too distracted with what was in his mouth to make active note of what specifically Hank was doing. "*Now* You can suck, and lick, baby."

Connor groaned at the permission and his tongue reveled in the precome and when he sucked he was rewarded with another firm pump of Hank's hand. He was careful not to apply too much pressure at once but he repeated what he could apply. And he wanted more. More in his mouth, more precome, more of whatever Hank wanted to give him. He recalled all too well the feel of this cock driving into his mouth, pushing into his throat like it belonged there.

And it did. Testing his boundaries, on his next firm suck, Connor pushed his head down just a bit. When Hank said nothing, he did it again, savoring the rough groans from the human. When he did it a third time, he felt a sharp pressure on his scalp. Not painful but the grip to his hair was unmistakable.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, brat," Hank growled softly. "Just for that, you get ot hold still for a minute. If you want more, you're getting more."

To his surprise, Hank slid both hands into Connor's hair on either side of his head and squeezed firmly. The intent was to hold COnnor in place but it wasn't necessary, the moment he'd been told to hold still he locked his body movements.

Which meant that when Hank pushed up into his mouth, he could do nothing except take it with a shuddering moan. HIs eyes fluttered closed and his world narrowed to that cock pushing into his tightly held head. After several uncounted strokes, Hank's hips settled and Connor was left with just the head in his mouth.

"Now," Hank said a little breathlessly "I want you to take the head out of your mouth, and lick your way down my cock," he loosened his grip on Connor's hair and Connor unlocked his body controls. He couldn't resist one last suck as he drew off with a soft pop. 

Deciding he finally wanted to earn more good boys and fewer brats, he did as he was instructed, and generously. His tongue slid lavishly over the presented flesh and he savored the feel and taste and the rich deep smell of Hank as he did. Precome kept trickling down and he caught every drop, dragging his tongue back up to chaste it to its source, but very quickly dropping back to where he'd been. 

When he reached Hank's balls it was all he could do not to lick them as well but he hadn't been told he could. In truth, he hadn't been told he couldn't, either, but Hank clearly wanted his instructions followed to the letter and no more, and Connor wanted to please him.

"Good boy," Hank purred. "Very good boy," those warm, heavy hands were pushing through his hair. "Now I want you to lick my balls. You can suck but very, very gently. There's a lot to taste down there so take your time, baby,"

Hank knew him so well, pushing his buttons as if they were physical ones. Connor's tongue laved across the wrinkly skin, sucking gently, first at the loose sac, then he opened his mouth wider, tongue sliding out and finding one firm ball and drawing it between his lips. Hank was right, his scent and taste were denser here than anywhere else in his body. And he reveled in it. Only his previous adjustments kept the notices from overwhelming him, though he was recording them for later.

"Fuck, Connor, fucking sweet mouth," Hank groaned as Connor kept up his slow, careful attentions. As he let one testecle slide free only to chase and suckle the other, the word that came to mind for how he felt about what he was doing was worship. He wanted to shut down everything else and just spend his time right here for a while. Tasting and feeling Hank's cock and balls in his mouth, learning every variation of texture and taste down to the cellular level.

Only the command parameters hovering on his vision kept him from continuing his attentions back up Hank's cock. He was allowed to do this to his balls, but nothing else. But if he was good, he'd get the rest, too.

"Gonna fucking kill me, good boy, fuck, Connor, don't gotta teach you anything, you're a fucking natural." Aside from anger, intense sexual stimulation seemed to drive Hank's profanity, and Connor revelled in the coarse language.

Connor hoped he would still continue his instruction as he opened his mouth wider, pushing his head closer and taking the entire ball sack into his mouth, being incredibly mindful of his teeth as he sucked gently, his tongue sliding between the tw-

"Connor, Conor, baby, stop," Hank was panting desperately and only when Connor stopped and let the balls slip from his mouth did Hank take a full breath, his body shaking. "Fuck," Hank's hand slid down, gripping the base of his cock tightly and Connor kept himself still, judging Hank to be on the edge of orgasm. Connor eyed the thick red shaft hungrily. He could get Hank to come right now, he was sure of it. But if Hank wanted to wait, he wouldn't push it. Not this time.

Connor rested his head on Hank's thigh and after several moments, he was rewarded for his patience by a strong hand in his hair. "Better?" he asked, reaching to catch Hank's hand and press it to his cheek, nuzzling his palm.

"That was close. Fuck, baby, you're too fucking perfect. I wanna do this, I do, but I don't know if i've got the patience tonight. Your mouth just feels too fucking good."

Disappointment warred with pleasure, and pleasure finally won out and he smiled. "I would not object postponing the lesson," he promised, kissing Hank's palm. Then he lifted his head, gazing up through his lashes, "Would you like-"

Hank pressed two fingers into Connor's mouth. "What I want is for you to suck me off however you want, baby," he said, then withdrew his fingers and smiled down at Connor.

"Will you come in my mouth?" he asked hopefully. "I would-" He almost went into detail about how much he wanted Hank's semen sitting in his belly, tangibly warm inside him, but he stopped himself. "-enjoy that very much."

"Of course, baby. Yeah, I wanna come in your pretty mouth," he nodded.

Feeling triumphant, Connor purred and nuzzled his way up Hank's cock. He drew the head into his mouth and sucked gently as he took more and more in. With no gag reflex, it was deliciously easy to slide him into his throat and make use of his new swallowing muscles. He bobbed up and down, popping the head in and out of the spot where his throat tightened. He only managed half a dozen times before Hank cried out his name and filled his mouth.

Connor groaned as he swallowed, whining and sucking for every last drop before he finally relinquished the gentle softening flesh and made his way up Hank's body. One arm flopped at his side and Connor gave into an impulse he'd had earlier. He pressed his face greedily into Hank's armpit, giving a tiny lick to draw in the sharp tang of sweat that he was covering himself in. He didn't have his own scent, not really, so he wanted to cover himself in Hank's while he could.

Hank's chuckle was soft and sleepy and before Connor knew it, he was on his side with Hank pressed up behind him, both arms warm and solid around his waist. "Time for the old man to sleep, baby," he murmured against Connor's neck.

Connor smiled. "Good night, my old man," he whispered and was greeted with a low, pleased sounding grumble. Moments later, Hank's body relaxed into sleep. 

Connor stayed awake for a while, first just savoring Hank's presence. Then he indulged himself, running over the sensations he'd had to store but couldn't feel, unspooling them slowly into his awareness. He didn't get near overload, but the wash of sensations made him tremble in Hank's arms a few times.

When he was finished, he reluctantly reactivated all of his human imitation protocols. It was unlikely they'd be interrupted in the night too quickly to adjust, but he didn't want to take the chance.

Finally he set himself to run a few background processes while he entered sleep and recharge mode and wiggled back just slightly before he closed his eyes and shut down for several hours.

+++++

Hank was dimly aware of a slight tickle at his shoulder, but ignored it in favor of going back to sleep. Then a similar tickle on his bicep, also ignored. It was when he felt his arm being so carefully lifted and soft lick to the inside of his wrist that he cracked open an eye. 

Connor was kneeling on the ridiculously large bed beside Hank. He nuzzled Hank's palm, then his tongue darted out, licking the webbing of his thumb.

"Morning, baby," Hank purred, voice froggy with sleep as he tried to draw Connor down for a kiss.

"Good morning," Connor returned, sliding over Hank and being drawn easily.

Hank kept his lips closed, just wanting to feel Connor's mouth, then Connor's tongue pressed inside and all worries about morning breath were vanquished in the wake of that quiet, hungry moan. "Mmm, I can seriously get used to this," he murmured. He was a little disappointed to see Connor having returned to his fully human appearance, but it made sense.

"I very much hope you do," Connor promised.

Reluctantly, now that he was awake, certain other needs were making themselves known. "I gotta hit the bathroom, baby. Then we should probably go over the game plan for the day." He hated to talk business with a soft naked twink in his arms, but needs must.

"Good idea," Connor nodded but he looked as reluctant to let Hank go as Hank was to get up. "I conducted several analysis and background checks during the night," he said, shifting away so Hank could sit up. "We'll go over the results when you've finished."

After a quick shower, Hank wiped the steam off the mirror and eyed himself. He didn't see any marks, but he recalled a few times when Connor could easily have made one. He recalled that soft, almost worshipful way Connor had touched him also and felt warm all over. Just another shitload of reasons he wanted this case to be over. He let himself stay naked after he dried himself off. With a fresh towel for his hair, he stepped out, seeing Connor at the large table, looking at the menu.

"Wanna order breakfast?" He asked as he joined him. "Lotta stuff in there we can't get at home, and it's all paid for by the department." he admitted he liked that idea.

"There are a good number of things I find myself curious to try," Connor said, then pushed the menu across the table to Hank.

"What I really want is more of your eggs," Hank admitted. They hadn't been the best he'd ever had, but Connor had made them and they tasted better than most of what they'd had since arriving here.

"When we get home I promise I'll make more," Connor promised with a smile and a faint blush.

Hank took a breath and decided on the meat platter - hamsteak, link sausage and patties, and bacon. Connor himself ordered a breakfast muffin basket and three different kinds of butter.

That done, Hank tried to push his mind back to why they were here in the first place. "So, your analysis. Any results worth talking about?"

"I ran background scans of all members attending last night, that we hadn't already checked,"

"Anything interesting?"

"Very little of note, though of course I've filed the inew information with everything else. One name is of note, however. Charles Franklin Hanston-Price III."

"Charles-" Hank ran over the people he'd met the night before. Despite having Connor to remember everything, he tried to at least keep a tally of folks he'd met. "Chuckie? With the thing on his leg?"

Connor laid his hand flat up on the table and Hank glanced at the face shown there. "That's the fucker," he grimaced. "Yeah, I saw him at the meet and greet last night, didn't do much of either, and the kid with him didn't look very comfortable. Said it was his first time so he was just gonna observe."

"An interesting falsehood," Connor observed. "I had to trace it back through three shell companies, but he's a part owner of AsUR."

"Uh-huh. Part owners generally don't lie about having been on their own property before."

"And it is absolutely a lie, I accessed the security server cloud for the firm that handles this facility. He's been here no less than five times in the last several months."

Something about that date span had Hank curious. He grabbed his tablet out of his bag. "Can you run a few graphs for me?" he asked, setting it on the table. "Show me when the bodies were found, with the best guesses of when they were killed.

Five points popped up on a six month timeline. Five bars just above it, showing the estimated range for time of death. At Hank's prompting, Connor added the androids, five more points, five more bars, putting into visual something they were sure of earlier. 

The graph showed clear connections in the timing and spacing of each incident. A human death. Followed by an Android one.

"And when has our good friend Chuckie been on hand-" Five more dots and Hank sat back, stroking his beard as he eyed the screen. "If he wasn't obviously such a slippery fucker, we could bring him in and put some pressure on him."

They both knew that wouldn't work, they would have to find a witness, hard evidence, or catch him red handed. And that third option ran the serious risk of not catching him at all and having eleven or twelve bodies on their hands instead of ten.

Hank noticed that most of the likely dates were mondays and tuesdays, which matched something else he'd considered. "Do me a favor, baby. Compile and keep handy a list of everyone who was checked in or staffing the resort on the weekdays that Chuckie was around."

"Because he wouldn't want to risk the resort being too crowded," Connor said.

While he did that, there was a knock at the door. Grabbing a robe, Hank opened the door and soon the table was laid down with their breakfasts, and a few other things Hank had added, mostly for Connor to try.

Over breakfast, they discussed the various events throughout the day and worked out a rough game plan for attending them and keeping an eye on Chuckie and other potential involved parties.

"Never was much a fan of volleyball but I'm looking forward to watching you play," Hank said with a grin. They'd agreed that Connor should be seen engaging in at least one group activity, as Hank had been, so they weren't just creepily observing everyone from the sidelines.

"Have you considered further musical engagement?" Connor asked, popping a small bit of generously buttered muffin into his mouth.

"No, I think this Filthy Assistent is retired for good now. At least for the duration of the case."

"That addendum is appreciated, I enjoy both watching your hands and hearing your voice, so you singing is a two for one special."

"Careful, Connor," Hank murmured, taking a sip of coffee "Gonna make an old man blush."

"I would consider feeling guilty if I saw any actually old men," Connor said with a fond smile.

That did actually make Hank blush, just a touch but he smiled as he cut into his ham steak.

They took their time eating but eventually even Connor had finished, taking a sample of virtually everything Hank had ordered. And Hank had allowed a few 'comparison samples' but didn't want to get too hot and bothered before going out. Jokes about his age aside, he'd gotten off more in the last two days than he had in any given week previously.

When Hank rose to gather his toiletries bag, Connor moved to the drawer. "Help me put these back?" he asked as he withdrew the guns. He moved over to the dresser and laid them down before leaning against it, hands on the surface, back exposed, ass jutting out.

"Fucking tease," Hank growled, seeing the extremely provocative posture. "Gotta stand like that?" He asked as he approached. "Exactly like that? Just begging for something to happen."

"Simply ensuring you have ample access-" Connor's comment was cut off by a gasp and color rose on his cheeks as Hank gave his ass a light slap. 

"Told you somethin' was gonna happen," Hank chuckled. His hand slid up from Connor's ass, finding the small mole that marked the manual opening button. He pushed it and watched Connor's skin open into a square before the panel slid away into his upper back.

"You indicated it would be something *bad*" Connor pointed out. Shifting his weight to one arm, he took his gun, checking it over before reaching back and tucking it into the compartment. 

"I'll keep that in mind," Hank chuckled, then added his own to the compartment, both fully loaded. He wasn't comfortable not having a gun on his own person, but that wasn't an option. And this way if somehow shit did hit the fan, he just had to find Connor instead of going all the way back to their rooms.

Once both guns were safely stowed, the panel and skin slid back into place and when Hank ran his hand over it, he was still surprised at how utterly natural it felt. He resisted the urge to have his fingers travel lower and finally kissed Connor's shoulder. "Gonna have a shower," he murmured.

Once under the spray, Hank tried to get his mind off of Connor's entirely too firm tuchus and onto the case they were here to investigate. Connor had come up with a list of roughly ten people who were here at the same times as chuckie. And another thirty who overlapped three our more times. Nothing had come up on their names specifically - no further co owners or anything. But he had the names, now.

After drying off, Hank towel dried his hair, then combed it back into a ponytail. Connor was packing their breakfast debris back onto the tray and had his shoes on already, towel folded on the dresser.

Part of Hank still wanted to retreat into some kind of clothing but there were no shorts and pants would draw too much attention.

Grabbing their towels, they headed out into the resort itself, Connor switching his easy going persona back on and Hank just trying not to scowl too much.

Hank still had to steel himself to step outside of the hotel naked, but once he did it got easier. Since they'd had breakfast, they opted to take a stroll. At the center of the resort was a small lake and most of the buildings were clustered around it. Near the dome base itself was a hiking trail so rich people could watch the snow they were paying so much to not be in.

After a short while, Hank stopped at one of the railings and watched the snow slowly drifting around not a hundred yards away. "I can almost feel the cold," he murmured. 

"It feels nice," Connor said, leaning against the railing, facing the snow. "Bit of cold from there, bit of warm from back there. "Think they put the walkway just close enough that you could get a bit of both if you wanted."

"Probably." He leaned, resting his own arms on the railing, shoulder brushing Connor's. "We gotta figure this shit out soon," he sighed, feeling like it had been far longer than just a day. In his department, crimes were usually solved in a matter of days. Not months like this one had been dragging on. 

"We will," Connor assured him. "Come on, back to reality," he stood up and gently tugged on Hank's arm. "Post breakfast skinny dipping awaits."

"Why do they bother specifying skinny dipping at a nudist resort?" Hank asked as he was dragged along.

"Because some people are wearing shorts."

The skinny dipping was meant to be one of the more popular events and they weren't disappointed. While neither dove in, there were plenty of places to sit on the edge of the lake and talk, which they did.

Hank made himself wander in Chuckie's general direction, allowing himself to be coaxed into sitting with their group. The conversation mostly went over his head, though just as with music the night before, if they hummed a few bars, he could fake it.

"Where did you meet your young man?" One of the cronies asked Hank.

"College," he said, sticking to their agreed stories. "I was at some alumni thing, he was one of the servers." He felt a bit predatory but then again, the story was meant to indicate that sort of take-what-you-want nature.

"Aww, love at first sight?" Someone asked with sarcasm.

Hank did his best not to fix him with a steely gaze and kept his eyes sharp and his shoulders casual. "*Something* at first sight, anyway," he finally said with a tiny smirk, prompting a laugh from the others.

"My boy's still in college. Studying, uhm … recent history influenced by … something. I don't listen much," one of the more grotesque looking men admitted.

"Got a better use for that mouth?"

"You know it."

Hank's stomach churned as he forced himself to join in the laughter. He hated pricks like this, and having to cozy up to them was almost more than he could stomach.

Hank noticed there seemed to be two distinct groups emerging from the resort denizens. Well, three. One were men like Chuckie, older, extremely rich, and fairly predatory. Just in the half hour Hank had been sitting, they had discussed swapping their lovers around like trading cards.

The other were the lovers in question, fit young men, most with more butt than brains and very keen on looking their absolute best. He suspected there was more to it, but he could only deal with what he saw.

The rest, roughly half the people here this weekend, were just upper middle class fuckers looking for a thrill. They still had the same approximate age divide - older men with their younger lovers, but it didn't feel as predatory, and the age ranges for both was a bit wider. 

Unfortunately for Hank, that first group was filled with men on their shortlist, and Chuckie was right at the top of this particular shit pile.

The conversation rounded back to business matters and Hank scanned the area for Connor, finding him chatting easily with a handful of young men, feet splashing in the water. Catching Hank's gaze, he gave a wave, which Hank returned with a lift of his drink before taking a sip.

The morning progressed, several men leaving and others joining their little cluster. Hank considered meandering off, but he was already with the man they had to keep the closest eye on so he clamped down on his roiling stomach and stayed put. Thankfully, the frequently replenished drinks still didn't hold a candle to what he could easily put away and stay on his feet.

After a while, it was time for the volleyball games to start. "Scuse me, gentlemen," Hank said, finishing off his drink and setting his glass down. "I need to go watch my boy jump around in the sand," he said, adding a wink before he headed off, towel draped over his shoulder.

The volleyball 'court' was a roughly square patch of incredibly fine sand with a volleyball net between two poles. There were chairs and tables around them and Hank settled at one of the ones with an umbrella. He'd applied sunscreen before they got to the lake earlier but he didn't want to take any chances, and it kept the sun out of his eyes.

Made up largely of their own choosing, the teams were two or three to a side. Chuckie and his cronies made their way over after a few games. Probably because most of the pretty young men were here to demonstrate their athletic prowess.

He had to admit Connor was doing a very good job. He was showing more enthusiasm than real skill, but pulled a few carefully timed lucky shots. He wondered if Connor had put 'win the tournament' on his to-do list. The thought made him chuckle.

The hardest part was ignoring just how *good* Connor looked out there. Golden skin under the sun, ass jiggling just right when he went for the ball. If Hank didn't know for a fact that he was one, he wouldn't have any clue at all that Connor was an android.

Connor's team didn't win, but they came in a respectable second. After all the games, the top three teams all posed for some candid pictures, taken largely by a young man who almost didn't look old enough to be here. Hank realized he'd noticed the man taking pictures through the whole game, and made a note to ask Connor if he could get into the guy's phone.

Finally, Connor made his way over to Hank, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before sitting down. "Have fun?" Hank asked, nudging an unopened, ice cold beer at Connor. Connor strictly didn't need it, but a human would want something cold after all that exertion.

"I did!" Connor said brightly before snagging the beer. Either to torment Hank, or to play into the human look, he first rolled the bottle over his chest and the back of his neck, letting out a shaky sigh as little trails of water slid down his skin. A look from under fluttering lashes proved the little shit knew exactly that he was doing. When he finally twisted the top off, he managed to down the entire drink in a few swallows and Hank was once again reminded of his utter lack of a gag reflex.

"You … are a fucking … tease," he growled and took a swallow of his own beer.

Leaning forward to set the glass down, Connor leaned in and whispered "Is it teasing if I intend to follow through?" before kissing Hank lightly.

"Brat."

It was a little after noon when the two headed for lunch.

"Find out anything useful?" Hank murmured. His arm was around Connor's shoulders as they sat in a small booth at one of the restaurants overlooking the lake. The whole place seemed designed for cozy, intimate dining and some measure of privacy. 

"Interesting, somewhat. Useful to the case, nothing we didn't already know or suspect," he murmured back. "Most of the other boys are … As much property as I ever was," he said, turning his head to nuzzle Hank's shoulder.

"Fuck. Yeah I got that impression," he sighed. "I'm waiting for one of them to ask for a shot at you. Gonna be really fucking hard not to take a swing at the bastard."

Connor shifted up, a soft hand on Hank's face turning his head and kissing him lightly. "Not gonna let anyone touch me. I promise."

"I know. Baby, it's not *you* I'm worried about. These fuckers aren't the sort to take no for an answer."

There was a large party tray, made of small samples of a dozen different menu items, most of which Hank hadn't had, let alone Connor, so they ordered that. When it arrived, they mostly ate quietly, each mulling over the case.

Hank knew, unfortunately, that with what they had already learned, they weren't likely to have much of a chance until Monday when the crowd thinned out considerably.

"Oh, that kid who was taking all the pictures? Can you get into his phone? Not sure I like having pictures of you naked floating around like that."

"Why? Jealous?" Connor asked with a teasing nudge.

"Very," he deadpanned.

"I've got a copy in my system now, i'll analyze it tonight. What're you doing after lunch?" Connor asked, slowly making his way through the samples.

"Chuckie indicated I'd be welcome to go play golf with them," Hank grimaced slightly.

"Mmm. The boys said they were gonna hang out in the rec room." Connor sounded as enthused as Hank felt.

"Sounds like a lotta fun, baby," Hank said with a chuckle, shaking his head. Once upon a time, a pack of twinks in a rec room would have been an absolute wet dream for him. Now it just made him feel old, and feel bad for most of the young men, knowing Connor was right about how the world - or at least the men here - saw and treated them.

It was getting close to tee time when they finished. After exchanging a quick kiss, Connor headed off towards one of the larger common buildings which housed the recreation room.

Hank himself was making his way towards the hole of the six hole course when something set all his senses on high alert. He turned just in time to see, but not entirely deflect the blow to his head.

+++++

PAIN ḙ̷̈̈́̅r̶̦̓̃̈̔r̴̬̝̤͋͛͠ö̷͙̰̝̞̋̈́͠͠r̴̨̡̫̻̔͛̐̈́ e̴͙͎̋r̶̨̈́r̵͕̦̭̄̕ȍ̵̟́r̴͖̪̻̺͓̓̍̆͝ PAINe̶̞̖̗̱̚ŗ̸̯̠̦͒̈́̅͜r̵͖͛̄̄͗̐o̴̥̳̍̍͂̾̄r̷̠̥̺̜̱͒̽̄͗͆ PAINệ̶̮͍̣͈̖̘̖̺̞̪̂̔̀̌̑̒̆͘r̸̨̞̲̳̟̻̀̌̒̀͐͋̋̕r̷̢͇̩̟̠̙̖͕̺̥̱̩̹̫̟͕̜͋͋̌̈́̅́́̃̊̔̑̍̿̄͗̄̇̆̕̕ơ̸̢̭͚̣̣̹̼͔̦̠̮̗͍̳̖̭̹̠̿͊̈́̿͠r̵̡̢̛̲͇̫͚̣̩̟̬͚̻̘̘͊̒̑ PAINPAINPAIN

Connor had never felt pain like this before. Hadn't known pain like this existed. It filled his mind, crawled over his skin, and sank into every single part of him.

And it screamed. It screamed, and screamed, and screamed. For an endless time it drowned out everything else.

It began to fade only slowly.

His vision was staticky, notices and high alert error messages flashing in and out. He was on his side, somewhere dark.

That was all he could tell with certainty for some time. And even the darkness he wasn't sure, because there were so many problems with his vision.

He'd been electrocuted. The memory swam back, heading to make nice with the other young men, to integrate himself with them. One of them had beckoned him and he'd changed directions.

Whiteness had filled his vision and then it blinked out. He remembered trying to send a call for help, but had no idea if he had or not. And trying now, either the place he was was blocked, or whatever had happened had damaged his wifi settings. That thought terrified him.

He tried to sit up but found he couldn't move.

Either the pain had started to fade further, or he was getting more used to it, even though his side still burned where it pressed against whatever the floor was made of.

Needing to see, and needing to know what the errors were, he dismissed the low status notifications. Even that took an uncommonly long time. 

The error messages were terrifying, and if Connor had a heart they could well have stopped it.

Missing: Right hand/arm below elbow.  
Missing: Right eye.  
Damaged: Speech center.

For the first time since waking, Connor tried to speak. All the came out was static and noises.

And he had no idea where Hank was. Something had happened. If they had him, they would have Hank, soon if they didn't already.

And considering what they'd done to *him* he thought of what could be happening to Hank.

He'd never understood before, how humans would sometimes vomit during times of extreme emotional distress.

He understood now, and he was glad he managed not to be laying in it when he was done.

Once he told his processors to stop looking for a signal from his right eye, his vision cleared considerably. It still flickered and glitched, but he could finally make use of the dim light. He was on the floor of a concrete room. 

Slowly, so slowly he began to move. He sat up slowly, resting on his knees and felt better. He tried to reach into his controls and pull out his sensors to stop the pain, but most of the pathways were damaged. 

He felt like he was complete, inside his own head, but so much was burnt out, he shuddered to think how much voltage he'd gotten.

He also realized he wasn't bound, his body had simply been too locked up to move.

When the door to the cell opened, Connor didn't have the energy to do more than turn his head.

Hank was shoved into the room hard enough to stumble to the floor.

Connor cried out in distress when he didn't move at first. A small miracle, he was able to scan Hank just fine, almost weeping when he saw no major, lasting damage. 

Shuffling carefully, he knelt beside Hank. His hair was mostly out of the ponytail, clinging to his wet and bloodied face. One eye was badly swollen but his scan revealed it to be intact under the swelling. His ribs were bruised but not broken. There was a very large lump on the back of his head.

He lightly slapped Hank's cheek, then more firmly, mind racing back to the very first time this had happened. Except it wasn't booze, and there was no shower to dump him into.

And Connor had no way of warning Hank about his condition.

Hank let out a slow groan, his head swaying a little. "Con'r?" he slurred abit, then opened his eyes and let out a sound of alarm. "Connor what the fuck?"

Hank reached for Connor's face, trying to get a better look and the moment contact was made his skin began to scream again. He forced himself to hold still, sweeping quietly.

"Connor, what happened? What did they- Oh fuck." Hanks' voice broke when he got a look at what was left of Connor's arm. "Oh fuck, Connor, baby." 

In spite of his obvious pain, Hank seemed more concerned about Connor's injuries and that just made him want to cry more. Connor sagged forward, wrapping his good arm around Hank, letting his scent, the stolen taste of him overwhelm the pain for a moment.

"I'm here, baby, I've got you, we'll get out of this," Hank murmured, holding Connor tight.

Connor just pressed against him, trying to be careful of his ribs. Finally he began to straighten, feeling those arms unwind. He had one more bit of bad news to impart, and to do he simply opened his mouth and tried to say Hank's name.

"Fuck," Hank sighed, shuffling to sit against the wall. "Can't talk at all?" Connor shook his head, shuffling closer. "I … were you awake when-" Connor cut him off with an emphatic shake of his head and he could see the relief in Hank's eyes. "Have you sent anything out?" Connor gave a shrug, then mimed breaking a stick. "Alright. They take anything else?" Connor was able to shake his head. The compartment in his back was untouched.

"Can you tell me anything about where we are?"

Connor looked around, trying to deep scan the surrounding walls but they were made of something that blocked his scanners and finally he had to shake his head. 

What he wasn't going to tell Hank is that he could see poorly washed traces of a great amount of blood and thirium residue in the room. Whatever happened to them somewhere else, Connor had little doubt that this is where the victims had died.

Letting himself lean close, he rested his head on Hank's shoulder, knowing now there was little they could do but wait.

"Well, if it isn't the washed out cop and his little toy freak," came a hateful voice from the doorway a few minutes later. Chuckie.

"Fuck you!" Hank pushed himself up, but once he got to his feet he wobbled a bit. Connor joined him.

The man just laughed. "Pathetic. I should have known the police would catch on eventually. I just thought they'd send someone … better. I mean … A drunk, and an overgrown abacus?" He stood back from the door. "Bring them," he said coldly to whoever was just out of sight.

This time, the taser blast wasn't enough to knock either of them out, but neither of them could move when four men came in to fetch them, carrying them down the halls. Connor tried desperately to scan, to see if he could see a way out, but whatever interfered was all through the halls, probably in the concrete.

They were pushed to their knees in a larger, cleaner room, and bound with their hands behind their backs before they had recovered enough to struggle. Well, Hank's hands were behind his back. Connor's was tied to his waist and chest so he couldn't even swing his stump.

They were in a locker lined room with a clear space in the middle. To one side, Connor could see a communal shower, but the mold he saw indicated it wasn't used very much, if at all. On the other side, the was a long hallway and he could see what looked to be a circular room beyond that.

Once they were bound, they began to come around, indicated mostly by Hank's swearing. Connor saw someone coming up to Hank from behind but couldn't stop them from jabbing something at his upper back, leaving a glittering square.

He couldn't bite back the scream when he felt something similar happen to him.

Chuckie made himself known, then, stepping into view in a comfortable looking suit.

"Now, I don't know how much the pair of you have worked out, but if I know police, at one point one of you vowed to solve this case if if it was the last thing you did. Guess what? It will be. You both have small explosives attached to your upper spine. Well, I could put its anywhere, but I like the symmetry."

"Fuck do you want, asshole?" Hank growled, still tugging against the bonds.

"What any of us really wants. To be entertained. Through that door," he gestured to the one with the hallway. "There's an arena. It was designed as a gym but I prefer the purpose we've given it now. What I expect from you is a good fight." 

He moved to crouch in front of Hank. "Normally we prefer strapping young things for this, they've got a lot more fire. But since I've only got an old drunk to work with, I had to even things up a little. If it wins, I'll give it its arms and eye back. If it loses, it won't really matter. Oh, and you should have done a better job with its face. My little fucktoy has an interest in androids apparently. Recognized this one from the TV. Once he got some pictures, he ran it through some software to confirm. Knew I'd want more than his idiotic say-so. Maybe he does have more use than somewhere to stick a dick."

Connor couldn't help the staticy growl when the man called him it. He knew how some people still felt. But it still grated to hear it. ANd he hated being unable to speak in his own defence. He expected that the man's little speech was meant to throw them off guard. And to irritate them both.

Hank's head fell forward and through the strands of hair falling on the side of his face, Connor could see his eyes, and could almost hear his brain working. He hoped he'd come to a similar conclusion. They would fight, and at the correct moment, arm themselves and try to escape.

"Fine," Hank growled. "You want us to fight, we'll fight. Give you motherfucks a real nice show. A drunk and a broken robot, now that's some entertainment for you," he snarled.

Since no one would know what he'd intended to say, Connor just laughed, the broken, staticky burst sounding eeire even to his own ears.

"Now, you gonna untie us or are just gonna, what, head butt each other to death?" Hank's insolence was rewarded by a sharp backhand and Connor could see rage in his eyes when he flipped his hair out of his face. "Once I'm done with him," he cocked his head at Connor, eyes locked on Chuckie's face. "I"m coming for *you*,"

"Oh, that'll be fun," Chuckie said with a dismissive chuckle. "Five minutes, then send them in," he instructed before striding down the hall to the arena.

They were surrounded by several guards, and Connor couldn't speak so they wouldn't have been able to confer even if they weren't.

Finally, connor could hear the distant boom of an announcement filling a smallish room. They were pulled to their feet and shoved along the hallway. Gunbarrels at their backs kept them still while they were untied, then they were ceremoniously shoved into the center of the arena.

Connor turned slowly, cataloguing everything he saw. There were about half a dozen men in comfortable chairs at tables arranged around the large circle in the center.

"-et the battle BEGIIINNN!" It ached, but Connor drew his arm up, hand curled into a fist and took a swing at Hank.

Hank ducked and punched Connor in the ribs with a growl. It wasn't nearly as hard as he could hit.

They traded blows, each being careful not to put too much into it, but making it real. Finally there was a chance for a grapple, with Hank pinning Connor's good arm under him. "Ready?" He growled and Connor nodded.

His compartment slid open, and they hopped to their feet, quickly taking out the guards, and anyone else who looked like they were drawing a gun.

Connor heard a commotion from the locker area and he and Hank braced for further reinforcements. The rich men who were watching were too shocked by the sudden turn of event to do more than hide under their tables and whimper. Connor smiled grimly at the sudden smell of fresh urine filling the air.

"DETROIT PD YOU'RE ALL UNDER ARREST!"

Connor had never been so incredibly glad to hear Detective Reed's voice. He almost collapsed with relief. So, he probably had gotten a signal out.

The next hour passed in a blur. Reed was rounding everyone up, barking orders and dominating the scene. Connor was absolutely fine with that, since he knew neither he nor Hank were up for doing much of anything. The controls for the explosive devices were located and then the devices themselves were carefully peeled away from their backs. Since they could mostly walk, they were given blankets and escorted outside.

Soft as it was, the blanket made Connor flinch a little, his skin was far too sensitive for any touch to be comfortable. It was fading but it was fading slowly.

Outside the building, Hank was guided towards the ambulance. "I don't need an ambulance I'm fucking fine!" he growled. "Just get me some clothes and let me go home."

Connor still couldn't speak, didn't know if he could even be repaired, but he laid an arm on Hank's shoulder, his eyes pleading with him. The anger faded from those blue eyes and he nodded. 

"Fine, fine, He's coming too, though." He pointed at Connor, drawing him towards the ambulance.

"Lieutenant, we don't have the facilities-"

"I DON'T CARE! He's coming with me."

Under the circumstances they opted not to argue. Connor couldn't sit up at the front of the gurney, but he did sit by the door and he was able to keep an eye on Hank.

At the hospital, they were allowed to stay together, no one wanting to argue with the belligerent lieutenant, and quite happy to be away from the android that made them all decidedly uncomfortable.

After being fussed over and patched up, they wanted to keep Hank overnight for observation from a possible concussion. Hank grumped and argued and said what he really needed was a night in his own bed. Connor again intervened. He hated being away from their place any longer, but he was worried about Hank. Wanted him to get the care he deserved. And until Connor was whole again, he couldn't do much for Hank at all.

About an hour after arriving, Hank was dozing thanks to some medication, and Connor got a message ping. From Markus. [I heard you're not well.]

[Right arm at the elbow. Right eye. Can't speak. Hank fared much better.]

[I'm glad you both got out alright. What room are you in?]

Connor told him. They ended the connection and Connor shifted his chair forward, holding Hank's hand and lowering his head to the bed to wait.

[I'm just outside.] Markus' ping woke Conner form his hibernation and he sat up. Hank looked more deeply asleep and Connor was glad. 

[Come in, he's asleep.]

Markus was carrying a large box with the CyberLife logo. [I knew you don't like the facilities, so I got some parts for you. Do you need help?] Markus laid the box on the rolling table and opened it up to reveal a complete right arm, and a smaller box containing a brown eyeball.

[I've been given instructions on how to repair but I've never had to do it.]

[Mind if I help?]

[Please?] Connor hated asking but he wanted to make sure it was done correctly, and he knew Markus had experience with that. And he still felt too burnt out, too exhausted to do much anyway.

Markus nodded and moved closer, Connor tipping his head back as Markus held his head gently, getting a good look at the wound. [It came out pretty clean,] he said, picking up the replacement. He held Connor's eyelid open and carefully inserted the eye. There was a sharp zap, a spark of light and a quiet sucking sound and Connor felt the eye settle into place.

He blinked, rolled his eyes and let out a staticy sigh, giving Markus a grateful look. [Already feels better,] he said. [Thank you.]

[This one's gonna be a little smoother,] Hank lifted the arm, detaching it at the elbow. He just held the forearm close enough to Connor's elbow that they attached themselves and Connor could feel sensation returning and felt a tear slide down his face.

[How did you know about this anyway?] Connor finally asked as Markus packed up the box.

[I got your signal. It was … staticky, chaotic, but there was some data in it. I think it's because we're both prototypes, both the same model line, and I know you interface with me more than any of the others. Now, about your voice …] Markus looked thoughtful. [I don't know what the exact problem is, but I asked around and some of the others who've been ill treated say sometimes it takes a few days for your voice to come back after getting electrocuted. We can run some deep diagnostics if you want, or we can wait.]

[I would be inclined to wait, except I feel there's a good deal … wrong. You saw the state the others were in when they were found. I have no doubt they were doing the same to me. Would I have to go to the CyberLIfe offices?]

[No. I'm actually hooked up so with your permission, I can run the scans now.]

Connor nodded, glancing at Hank to make sure he was still asleep. He offered Markus his hand.

Along with the diagnostic information he could feel Markus feeding into his code, he was getting something as well.

Markus first trying to call the DPD and being given the runaround. Then going over there in person, demanding to see someone in charge. It was Fowler himself who finally came out to check on the commotion. Markus had wasted no time, explaining the situation the second they were in the captain's office.

Fowler had tried to evade at first until Markus had explained his signal, that Connor was most likely very damaged, and he was at the AsUR club. A place known to be hostile to androids. Once he was over the annoyance that Markus was apparently privy to private information, he ordered his men to mobilize, putting Detective Reed in charge. Assured the matter was in hand, Markus was able to more calmly take his time to explain what he knew and how he'd come to know it.

When Markus drew his hand back, Connor did feel better. Like part of him had been swept out and tidied up. The pain had died down to a dull roar.

[It's mostly residual damage from the shocks. Anyone else, we'd have to root around and replace some parts. You and me, we're built of better stuff. It'll take excess thirium, by a lot, but you'll be able to repair yourself in about a week. The rest is segments of corrupted code, also from the shocks. I was able to compare it to the code they have in storage at CyberLife. With your permission I can overwrite the corrupted code.]

[Please,] Connor nodded, trusting Markus. Another interface, and Connor could feel the improvements. Like opening a window in a stuffy room. It would take time to clear it entirely but the changes were being made. [Thank you, Markus.]

[It's no problem. You're one of us, we take care of our own. And you take care of him,] he added and Connor saw his eyes soften.

[I will. I do. He's only still here because they're worried about a concussion.]

[From what I know of Lieutenant Anderson, he's only here because you asked him to be.]

Connor felt a faint flush in his cheeks and couldn't help but smile. [Maybe.]

In a moment of impulse, Connor stood and pulled Markus into a firm hug, feeling the pat on his back. [I'll check on you later,] Markus promised before picking up the CyberLife box and departing.

Feeling worlds better, Connor pulled his chair back up to Hank's bedside. He rested his head just below Hank's hand, nuzzling the fingers and dropping off into sleep mode.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a sequel, goddamnit! And I swear it'll be mostly fluff! I promise! These boys need a break.


End file.
